“Wow....”
From inside, Carnegie Hall felt completely different.
“It’s really huge, more than I thought.”
“It didn’t look that big from outside, but stepping in, it feels way bigger.”
The entire hall shone as if gilded in gold.
Even to soone unfamiliar, the hall, built at his own expense by 20th-century steel magnate Andrew Carnegie, was magnificent.
And it held special aning for .
“It’s amazing.”
I said to my brothers.
“When I was learning piano, I watched so many performances here. Famous pianists perform here all the ti.”
It was known as the cca of classical music venues.
As a child, I often read in newspapers that so Korean pianist would perform at Carnegie Hall.
When I briefly studied piano, it was my dream stage—what would it feel like to play there?
Biju smiled and said,
“This place must an a lot to you, hyung.”
“Kind of?”
It was so long ago that my mory was hazy now.
We chatted as we looked for our seats, when a familiar Arican face appeared a distance away.
“There you are, over here!”
It was Frank Chow, originator of Nostalgia and legendary Broadway musical producer.
As we approached, he bead and patted our shoulders.
“How was the flight?”
“Safe and smooth, thank you for the invite, Frank.”
“You’re the mastermind behind Thousand Dreams—of course I had to invite you. Co over here. I’ll introduce you.”
“Ah, not here?”
“Your seats are elsewhere.”
Only then did we realize the one holding our tickets was Biju.
We’d been so entranced by the hall that we hadn’t even noticed our guide was Biju.
“Ah.”
Embarrassed, Biju and I exchanged smiles.
Frank Chow, tilting his head in amusent, led us up to the second floor.
We took seats in the side section, like in an opera house.
“Wow. I always wanted to sit here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. In 007 and spy movies, they sit here with opera glasses going ‘huh-huh-huh.’”
Our maknae was thrilled by the most unusual details. I knew exactly what he ant: an elegantly dressed patron peering through opera glasses from a side box.
As the seats hovered above the floor, Ri Hyuk checked for safety, and Biju edged back nervously.
Frank Chow approached a middle-aged woman reviewing vouchers.
“Councilwoman! This is the creator of Thousand Dreams.”
“Oh!”
She was a New York City councilmber invited to tonight’s charity concert. They greeted warmly.
“I saw your na on the composer list. You wrote Thousand Dreams, right? You’re... younger than I expected.”
Seeing my brothers behind , she looked curious, so I said,
“They’re my lackeys.”
I’d struggled to recall “lackey” in English, but her burst of laughter told it worked.
After greeting a few other distinguished guests, we sat.
“Who was that?”
“A councilmber, I think.”
They’d reacted politely—“Oh”—when I said “composer,” then a puzzled “Hmm?” at NewBlack, before awkward introductions.
Watching my brothers fumble with vouchers, I turned to Seokhwan sitting beside .
“Hyung.”
“Yeah?”
“Doesn’t it feel strange? Sitting here on Christmas Eve watching a concert.”
“Yeah. It is strange.”
Seokhwan smiled. He must have felt the sa.
A song that began with asking for a lody for the Korean version had exploded into a hit film score and led us here.
My composition recreated by a world-class orchestra.
“It’s sothing else, right?”
I laughed with my manager as murmurs filled the hall.
Orchestra mbers filed in, taking violins and cellos; harps and percussionists sat at their posts.
As the strings tuned into a gentle hum, the final entrant appeared.
A middle-aged conductor with shoulder-length white hair.
“Oh...”
Applause rose as the fad conductor took the podium. Each flick of his baton colored the sound in luminous hues.
Soft rustling hush fell over the hall as though soone turned pages of a score. Then the first musical number began.
“...”
It was beautiful.
At his cue, the wind instrunts sprang to life, their staccato trills mimicking sparrows’ steps. The piano chased them as if they fled a predator.
In the original, this number underscores books scurrying to escape fearso foes.
“They’re incredible.”
Ri Hyuk and I exchanged awed glances. Behind us, my three protégés were half-asleep, and I chuckled as I returned my attention to the orchestra.
My heart fluttered like when I rented a new animation video as a child—wondering how the hero’s tears would sound, or how the score would interpret adventures. Each Nostalgia OST number under this conductor’s direction felt thrilling.
Then,
“Our song’s next.”
At Biju’s whisper, my brothers snapped awake, eyes bright.
Thousand Dreams began.
I felt the lyrics flow in my mind as a thousand dreams soared. The the—cherish dreams without being consud—rose gloriously under the conductor.
Countless balloons lifted into the air, then—pop!—burst in a fizz of symphonic sparkle.
“Wow.”
I clapped in a daze. Frank Chow, applauding beside , grinned and asked,
“How does it feel to hear your piece reborn by an orchestra?”
“It’s amazing.”
I replied to the producer’s amused smile.
“I wish I’d co to see the musical too.”
I’d heard Nostalgia was back on Broadway. He’d offered tickets, but my schedule was too tight—I regretted passing. Even hearing Thousand Dreams once was worth it.
“It’s been decades in this industry, but every ti I hear my music with an orchestra, it moves . Like launching a new musical, my work reborn in others’ hands is a fresh thrill.”
Frank Chow folded his arms and said,
“It always is. Always new.”
“I think so too.”
He leaned in, voice low.
“I have a project in mind. Interested if you’ve ti? I can save you a spot.”
“What’s the project?”
It sounded like another film. We listened quietly, then exchanged looks with Seokhwan.
“Can we hold off for now?”
“Oh? Is that a refusal?”
“I don’t know my schedule for next year yet.”
His expression shifted as he realized I was a singer, not just a composer. I smiled—busy wasn’t an excuse but the truth. I agreed to talk again should ti allow, then enjoyed the rest of the charity concert.
Classical music after so long felt fresh, like when I heard Paul Roland in Paris. I felt my horizons expand—and new ambitions stir.
Beyond pop music, I now craved film and musical OST work.
“It’s not enough.”
That was my takeaway. To dive deeper, I needed not just piano but a profound grasp of orchestration. I knew theory, but...
“I should take lessons on other instrunts when I have ti.”
My brothers blinked.
“When will you rest? Planning to sleep in your grave?”
“I have one life. Think carefully, mister.”
“What else are you trying to do?”
Even Junghyun, quietly fed up, shuddered. Despite their warnings of burnout, I declared,
“Charter flight.”
Their stunned silence broke as they whipped out phones to search for instrunt lessons.
After returning from the charity show, the 26th had nearly slipped away.
And online, chaos reigned.
– “HBS Music Awards stir controversy again... Ending stage debate heats up”
– “HBS PD on year-based lineup: ‘I can’t understand the backlash’”
– “Last year power-tripping, this year ending controversy... eventful HBS history”
At tonight’s HBS year-end show, debates raged over the finale. Everyone predicted Teen Spirit for the ending slot, but TNT’s live ending caused uproar in the audience—and after.
“Ugh...”
I felt a chill watching the fierce comnt wars. Brutal.
– “TNT did what this year? LOL give a break”
– “So disgusting”
– “All these networks just back each other”
– “Fighting over who gets the ending on a music show—legendary LOL no one else cares”
– “Next year breakup~”
– “Last year they bullied NewBlack, now TNS gets it”
– “Just leave it—they have no Artist of the Year or year-end stage anyway LOL”
– “What does the H in HBS even stand for? Hopeless?”
I exchanged glances with my brothers.
“My New Year’s resolution is set.”
“Don’t read comnts.”
Once again proven: for singers, the internet is poison. I closed my browser and shivered with my brothers.
Though I’ll be a fourth-year ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ next year, I never get used to people’s blunt barbs.
“But...”
Junghyun said, curious,
“I wonder if it’s okay for us too.”
“Hmm?”
“Usually if HBS does sothing, PBS and TBC follow suit. Year-end stages are similar across networks.”
He had a point. Winning Music Awards at Mango Chart and KMA suggested we might get the final slot, but now it seed uncertain.
“Nothing’s easy.”
We couldn’t change it. PBS and TBC collaboration this year ant relations were strong—so no big surprises.
“Must be awkward for other artists.”
I thought, recalling how networks cross paths at these shows and tensions linger.
I skimd other headlines: Serenity’s stage suffered sound glitches, a senior artist was insulted in a mic mix-up—blazing controversies.
“What on earth happened?”
Usually, I’d say it’s worth appearing on a terrestrial year-end stage, but maybe we dodged a bullet. A PD with this string of fiascos might even be ousted.
“The fire’s raging...”
I watched HBS burn from afar with a wistful smile, then dove back into year-end stage rehearsals.
And...
“Whew...”
December 28. On the eve of the PBS Music Festival, I headed to TBC’s Sangam building for my own schedule.
I’d been invited to the TBC Entertainnt Awards for the sitcom Our Family Is Alien.
“But why did you...”
“They give us awards too.”
I said to my entourage, all dressed sharply in tuxedos.
“I can collect the Popularity Award myself.”
“You’d be lonely, hyung.”
“No, I won’t be.”
They’d co simply because they wanted to.
At these Awards, viewers vote annually for popularity prizes; we won this year. I was to accept on behalf of the group, but my lackeys couldn’t stay bored in the dorm, so they tagged along. Still, their presence was comforting.
“Ri Hyuk hyung, let’s take a selfie.”
“Whatever.”
Ri Hyuk flashed a radiant smile and V-sign, and I slipped between them.
“ too.”
“Shoo shoo!”
“You vultures. Why are you trying to join?”
I diverted my gaze to the others, indignant at their refusal.
Ri Hyuk and Biju, pouting and making faces, snapped their phones shut.
“That’s enough. I’m taking this alone.”
I smiled as I snapped the selfie for Souffle. The formal suit was fine, though not my favorite—still decent.
Adjusting my bow tie, Jiho exclaid,
“I want you in that all year!”
“Is it okay?”
“It’s an epic outfit.”
“Really? Glad you think so.”
“You seem indifferent, hyung.”
I responded,
“I appreciate the choice, but my taste is....”
“What do you prefer?”
“The costus we wore in Japan. There they always look amazing.”
“...”
“Guys?”
They ignored , so I looked outside.
Today they’d blocked off the guest parking with cones. We rolled down the window and greeted the guard:
“Hello! NewBlack!”
Flanked by my crew, I sashayed into the studio with a smug grin.
In a borrowed tuxedo, I felt a bit more dignified than usual. I waved to my brothers heading to the waiting room.
“I’ll accept with dignity.”
Ri Hyuk laughed.
“Stop talking nonsense and go.”
“Hope you step on old gum on the way.”
Ri Hyuk stared at the floor, uneasy, and I waved to the others, then followed Mingi to the TBC open hall.
Test lights swung about; audience mbers took their seats.
“Waaaaa!”
Many seed to be our fans.
Reading a sign, [Spaceship, Kim Wooju, and... what was it?], I burst out laughing.
I waved and bowed to the tables around .
“Hello!”
“Ah, Wooju!”
The first table was for People Goes. PD Do Jun-gi, who’d transford military entertainnt into hit reality, reached to shake my hand.
I feinted a Marseille turn and ducked away.
“Hello, PD-nim! Haha!”
He watched like a falcon that’d missed its prey. Eunsung from People Goes laughed. I greeted other cast mbers from Special Forces specials.
“Wooju-ya~”
“Hello. How have you been?”
At the table for national show Dice Around the World, I greeted them cheerfully.
Next was cast from my cringe past show, SinToki.
Finally, I took my seat with the cast of Our Family Is Alien. They laughed.
“Man, it takes forever to get here.”
“Told you.”
“I thought you were TBC’s youngest recruit.”
I laughed at Seo Noeul’s remark. I sipped water and checked cara angles when Master Song-hoon grabbed my hand.
“You doing well, Ju-sun?”
“Yes, teacher.”
“Practicing acting?”
He advised to keep up my skills if I wanted to act in my old age.
I greeted more variety stars as they arrived. Soon the awards began.
“Welco to the 2016 TBC Entertainnt Awards!”
“This year brought so many hot variety shows and sitcoms!”
MCs – two codians and Yubin from La Vie en Rose – kicked off the ceremony. The mood was electrifying.
As awards proceeded,
“Next is for the best on-screen chemistry: Best Couple Award!”
“There were so many amazing pairs.”
“Let’s et the nominees!”
Last year’s winners took the stage, and nominees flashed on the giant screen.
Eunsung appeared, gold panning in the mud on People Goes.
“People Goes, Kevin-Min Taewon.”
After fans’ cheers died down, sibling duo Yehee-Yechan from Dice Around the World appeared.
Their chilly glances made the audience laugh.
Each show got one award, so Our Family Is Alien was among the nominees.
But then...
“Huh?”
I saw myself on screen. More precisely, Kim Wooju holding Maltese Yeong-sik—voiced by Song-hoon—pursued by laser-eyed mutant cats.
“Our Family Is Alien, Wooju-Yeong-sik.”
At the announcers’ voices, laughter rippled through our table and beyond. I smoothed back my hair and flashed a “I’ll defer” smile at the cara.
I pictured my squirming brothers in the waiting room.
“Congratulations to the Wooju-Yeong-sik couple from Our Family Is Alien!”
“Wooju, take this.”
Ara swiftly handed the Yeong-sik plush, the night’s true star. Applause urged forward.
“Thanks! Haha!”
“Look at that, Ju-sun won! Hee-hee!”
“...”
I hated them all.
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