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Now reading: Chapter 616: Coin (13) from In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe, a Comedy novel by Son Yoon.

Gocheok Do.

One of the largest concert venues in the country, after the Olympic Main Stadium and Sangam Sports Complex.

Capacity: over twenty thousand.

And right now, that venue was...

[Waaaaaaaaaah!]

...packed wall to wall with Moon Sticks. Beyond the sea of light I could just make out smiles, cheers, happy faces.

Seeing that made us happy, too.

“Alright. Now you’re going to watch the making film for this second full-length album. Are you ready?”

“Yeeees!”

The venue had gotten ridiculously bigger, but it wasn’t so different from our usual showcases.

We played VCRs and behind-the-scenes clips we’d prepared for the fans.

And like now, videos in a docuntary format showing how this album ca to be.

[2017. 01.]

“Is it on? Is my face on?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t lie. You’re on selfie mode, aren’t you?”

“Busted.”

A quick shot of and Ri Hyuk at the piano in Kim Deoksun House slid by.

Then it cut straight to the interview room.

I was sitting against a black backdrop, talking about how “Coin” was made.

“The idea for a song called ‘Coin’ ca to during the Lunar New Year break. We had an old arcade cabinet at ho. I was playing it and—bam—the inspiration hit.”

I had no choice but to emphasize how the title Coin was decided.

On screen, I said seriously:

“Everyone. The title ‘Coin’ was already decided before I brought gold coins back from Australia.”

Hearing the on-site Souffle go “Eyyyy!” I stared into the air with a tragic face.

I lowered the mic and said,

“It’s true. It’s completely true...”

“Call it karma. We’ve pulled one too many stunts. Fans have every reason to misunderstand.”

“Honestly, I would’ve suspected it too.”

Thankfully, as the behind-the-scenes of Coin kept rolling, the fans’ doubts were clearly fading.

Even the pre-Australia footage included a laptop screen with the title Coin on it.

Next ca the mbers’ interviews.

“We worked on Coin hoping it would beco a happy song.”

Biju smiled.

“Even if the process itself wasn’t happy...”

With a burst of laughter, the video shifted to raw footage.

Our maknae in a deep hood was filming a self-cam while rummaging through Junhyun’s jelly bag.

The handso one smoothing his brown hair murmured as he fild the younger mbers sprawled on the sofa and our director.

“Hello. This is the lair of composer goblin Sun Wooju. Why am I whispering? Because that very composer goblin is lightly asleep. A truly rare mont.”

The angle rustled and moved, and there I was—face planted on the laptop, asleep.

A chorus of Souffle laughter broke out.

Embarrassing.

“When he sleeps he’s really like an angel. If only he’d stay out till morning... but he’s going to wake up in five minutes, guaranteed.”

Taking advantage of the quiet while everyone else slept, the maknae’s eyes sparkled as he prowled the studio.

He peered through the control-room window toward the recording booth and, imitating Ri Hyuk’s face, muttered, “I’ll lock the pitch this ti. No miming.”

Then, “this is Junhyun hyung,” he said in a dignified tone, pretending to be aloof as he ate jelly.

“And this is Biju hyung.”

He put both hands to his cheeks and gazed up like a happy sunflower—at —and giggled to himself.

The minions shook the maknae by the collar—shake, shake, shake.

“Hey, you...”

“Euaaah...”

“You’re dead, King Jiho.”

Even Biju poked him playfully in the ribs with a bright smile, and I was laughing as I held the younger ones back.

“Ah. I’m bored. What should I do? Ah! I’m going to try a fun experint on Wooju hyung while he’s sleeping.”

What now.

I turned my head slightly; the maknae was looking elsewhere.

anwhile, on screen, Jiho got up with a rustle and shook a jelly pouch right in front of my nose.

I stirred and, about five minutes later, sat up with red eyes.

The maknae asked, perfectly calm,

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah. Ugh... Jiho.”

On screen, I stretched, then suddenly widened my eyes like sothing big had happened.

“I dread about jelly.”

“A jelly dream?”

“Yeah. In the dream the jelly was running away. It bolted off holding this insanely good score sheet and I was about to give chase...”

A cutesy caption rolled under the maknae’s thumbs-up to the cara:

[Experint successful!]

In the dark, I grabbed the maknae by the collar—shake, shake, shake.

“Euaaaaaah...”

The younger ones laughed as they tried to stop .

Maybe because it was our fans gathered here, they cheered for every little mont in the making film.

“Nice...”

“Don’t make grandpa noises.”

“You little...”

This was the thing I’d been waiting for the most about our coback: this ti to talk with our fans and sing together.

Three ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ months of album prep lted away like sugar.

“Yes! Did you enjoy the making film?”

With that, the album stages rolled out like a mini-concert—tracks from the full-length, one after another.

It should’ve been the point where everyone got tired, but the cheers never let up.

“Waaaaaaaaah!”

Sa for us.

“If it weren’t for your last train, we could keep playing till dawn.”

“I love these cheers. Love them.”

“I missed this vibe so much...”

Tomorrow I’d definitely be groaning with muscle aches, but the rush running through my whole body wouldn’t fade.

But the scheduled ti was the scheduled ti.

After the Q&A, as the showcase headed into its latter half, we had to move to the next corner.

“Alright.”

Junhyun smiled warmly.

“It’s ti. Ti to begin the awards ceremony we prepared for you.”

Jiho slid his mic toward the audience and asked,

“Thump-thump?”

“Thump-thump!”

“Ba-dump, ba-dump?”

“Ba-dump, ba-dump!”

The Souffle answered in perfect unison, laughter spilling out.

Even the masquerade-ball Souffle sitting lofty in VIP shook their fans and amped up the heat.

Ri Hyuk took the mic.

“Before we officially begin, please enjoy a very short video.”

As we headed backstage, a video rolled on the screen.

A majestic BGM.

With glamorous lights sweeping Gocheok Do, the caption read: [Gocheok Do Live Broadcast].

The Souffle burst out laughing at the real-awards vibe.

“Huahahahaha!”

As the grand music swelled, NewBlack’s activities flashed by in a quick montage.

“The past three years with NewBlack! Have you been happy?”

A voice actor—famous for narrating an animal TV show—bood across the hall.

“From the fireworks that brilliantly lit up the beginning to today’s ‘Coin,’ you have always been with NewBlack. You laughed with them when they laughed.”

Shots of the mbers dragging every kind of incident in their wake.

“And you cried with them when they cried.”

From the Mango Chart Awards, when we won our first Grand Prize—the mont all the mbers stood at once and hugged each other tight.

In the awards footage, fans shaking Moon Sticks had their mouths covered, eyes glistening.

The VCR kept triggering waves of cheers and sentint in turns.

Keeping the year-end-awards tone, the narrator wrapped cheerfully:

“Then from now! We begin the 1st Souffle Awards!”

As the Souffle cheered and clapped,

the spotlights spun like an awards show, sending everyone into big laughter.

[drumroll]

With timpani rolling from the orchestra, the sweeping spotlights stopped cold.

The stage entrance hissed open—

[ssshk]

—and a five-person group appeared.

“Hahahahahaha!”

Our favorites, dressed as award presenters in tuxedos and bow ties, walked out in style.

Kids with flower baskets followed.

While the rest of us took our places, Junhyun stepped to the standing mic with a smile.

“Good evening. I am rapper Sweet Potato.”

The rapper with ash-gray hair swept it back and spoke with a contented smile.

His baritone flowed in like sweet potato soup.

“Through music, our Souffle and NewBlack beco one.”

It was the kind of stock line actors or models say at awards shows, and everyone burst out laughing.

Smooth as ever, Junhyun took an envelope, opened it.

“Yes, the first category is the Effort Award. It goes to the person who recorded a lower score than Sun Wooju in a ga. Our eldest, the original ga noob, will present.”

The proud ga noob strode to the standing mic with a smile.

“I’ve always wanted to et this person. Imagine—soone worse at gas than .”

While the fans laughed, I opened the envelope and said,

“An absolutely one-and-only record lower than mine. Ga nickna ‘Sun Wooju Ga Noob’! Please co up to the stage!”

“Waaaaaaaaah!”

“I’ll say it again. ‘Sun Wooju Ga Noob’!”

With cheers, a Souffle wearing an arcade-cabinet mask shuffled onto the stage.

Soon the fan, trophy in hand from the mbers, stood at the mic trembling sweetly.

“This will help!”

The maknae offered a small pink balloon.

We smiled at the puzzled fan.

“It’s magic gas that pumps confidence! With one of these, your MBTI flips from I to E.”

“Yes. I, Ri Hyuk, an introvert to the bone, personally vouch for it.”

“One balloon per person. Take a nice, confident shuuuuup~!”

The shy “Sun Wooju Ga Noob” went shuuuuup and then exhaled a long breath into the standing mic.

“Kyaaa... oh my?”

The helium-thin voice made the masked Souffle raise a hand to her mouth.

We laughed behind her.

Transford from timid to extre extrovert, Sun Wooju Ga Noob faced the mic.

“First of all, I dedicate this joy to the original ga noob, Teacher Sun Wooju! Kyakyakyakya! I’m bad too, but honestly, oppa is really bad at gas!”

I clutched the back of my neck theatrically as everyone clapped and laughed.

“Ah! I love being anonymous! First—mbers, I love you so~ so~~ much! And to my creators who brought here! Mom and Dad! I love youuu!”

As “Sun Wooju Ga Noob” spread the love for the mbers, she reached the final line.

“Truly, our New Bla— huh?”

The spell broke and her real voice ca out.

But there was only a sip of helium left in the balloon in her hand.

We stepped in behind her, smiling, and took the mic.

“As you can see, the amount of helium is limited, so there’s a ti limit.”

“Hu hu hu hu hu! You have to choose your words carefully.”

After a beat of thought, Sun Wooju Ga Noob took another shuuup and shouted,

“Kyakyakya! Souffle forever!”

As the fan left behind a great line and disappeared, the rest of the fans burst into group laughter.

And as the awards continued, the Souffle realized one thing:

“I’m going to use the prize money to buy at! Kikiki!”

“You have to choose nicknas carefully. If I’d known I’d be on this stage, I wouldn’t have gone with ‘Sinbad’s Insurance.’”

“Being up here, I get it. Ah. So this is why people want to be celebrities. The attention is so good~ Standing here, twenty thousand King Sticks and Moon Sticks are waving at ~!”

The fans laughed.

“Right. We’re a fandom of attention monsters...”

All that shyness vanished; once on stage, they gave acceptance speeches on par with actors and then ca down.

I laughed, thinking, our fandom really does have a lot of funny people.

And—

Two fans drew the most attention. One was:

“Hello. I’m ID Lighthouse Keeper, winner of the ‘Firefly’ prize... Everyone calls Firefly so naturally, but I’m Lighthouse Keeper, I swear!”

A fan wearing a firefly mask went “ting... ting...” in onomatopoeia, and we burst into roaring laughter.

From off-mic, Jiho’s “I’m sorry!” bood through the do.

“Yes. I’m receiving this because I’m the custor with the most lightstick purchases... but I didn’t use them all myself. I bought them on behalf of my neighbors. The elders insisted they’d use NewBlack lightsticks! But, as you all know, what happens if a lightstick goes into water, I an, just logically?”

“Does it... lt away?”

“No, what I an is... even if a King Stick goes into water, it’s totally fine! I’m here to praise the King Stick’s glorious waterproofing!”

As the vibe turned into a Lemon Entertainnt business briefing, we clapped, very satisfied.

“Anyway, thank you so much! Thanks to the King Stick, I get the most love on our island. Thank you. Kyakyakya.”

“Our island...?”

A keyword slipped out unconsciously.

Our eyes sharpened, trying to size sothing up—

Lighthouse Keeper snatched the mic and blurted,

“Anyway, thank you! Souffle forever!”

With a bouquet and trophy in hand, Lighthouse Keeper swished her dress and vanished.

“Wait.”

Like a scene from a detective manga, Ri Hyuk called her back.

“Lighthouse Keeper?”

Creak...

Her head turned hesitantly, and sohow you could almost see an expression under the mask.

“Have we t?”

Shake, shake—no.

Then she ran off in a panic, and the Souffle laughed.

“Hmmmm.”

“I won’t na nas, but this feels familiar. The overall vibe...”

“We don’t know any of the winners’ personal details either.”

The Souffle smiled.

As the winner’s identity slipped into a hazy mystery,

we reached the highlight of the night.

A winner who earned a standing ovation from the fans.

“We should say this person’s na ourselves. The very first person to sign up when the NewBlack fan café opened.”

“Oh my.”

“Huhhh...”

“My gosh... she’s alive!”

A reason that made “Grand Prize” feel inevitable.

A progenitor who’d been stanning since 2014. In bone-rank terms, the purest of the pure—no, soone who should be enshrined in the Souffle royal ancestral shrine.

If we held a rite, it’d be like, “This is your great-great-grandmother—and she’s still with us.”

Then the spotlight shoooone down and the fans gasped.

“Hoooooooo!”

A Souffle in a grandma mask styled like black rubber shoes stood proud in hanbok.

“Should we... help her up?”

“No—she’s spry!”

The air turned solemn and grand, like a veteran actor had entered.

Step, step—the Souffle walked up, showered with flowers and countless handshakes, and accepted the Grand Prize trophy.

She took a long pull of helium and her body bounced.

“Ahh... what am I going to do...”

As the trembling voice ca out, the Souffle in their seats got misty-eyed.

“Our senior...”

Back in early ’14, it was almost barren wilderness.

From NewBlack’s debut “Fireworks,” to the Icheon Festival, to Jusehan—she’d been there as a fan.

In ’15, as “Windflower” pushed us upward, she fought antis stirring up chart-rigging accusations, and kept battling until our first Grand Prize—she was living fandom history.

“Hello. My ga nickna is ‘Moving Is Fucking Aweso Granny’...”

As expected of the purest of the pure.

At the formidable nickna, the fans gave a collective, respectful round of applause.

“I only signed up for the café a little earlier than others, so I’m not even sure I should be up here... but thank you very much.”

The black-rubber-shoes grandma bowed and continued.

She’d been given one more helium balloon than the others.

After saying she was happy to receive an award at the Souffle Awards, she turned her gaze near the end of her remarks.

“...Honestly, I want to tell our singers sothing here. Since I found NewBlack, my life has gotten happier. Watching the mbers made think I should live more diligently... In that sense, I want you to know there are a lot of fans who are truly happier because of NewBlack.”

When that helium speech ended—

“They’re crying again.”

“Oh dear, those snotty kids...”

NewBlack, faces white and streaked with tears, presented the Grand Prize trophy.

The first-ever mber coolly patted us like we were the ones needing comfort and stepped down, making the fans snicker.

And—

Only the Coin performance remained.

[ding!]

A notice popped up on the jumbotron.

[Backstage Status Notice.]

[Due to the singers’ unexpected tears, the stage for “Coin” will be delayed by about five minutes.]

[We ask for your generous understanding.]

The fans laughed and applauded.

Five minutes later.

As the hall began to darken, the Souffle’s cheers swelled.

“It’s Coin! Coin!”

“My god...”

My heart felt like it might explode.

With twenty thousand people screaming and cheering, the venue shook, and the lightsticks thrumd and blazed.

[fwwoooooosh!]

Through central control, the audience turned into a rippling sea of gold, and the cheers just kept rising.

“Waaaaaaaaa!”

The stage brightened slowly.

With the VCR, a massive stage prop rolled out and grabbed every eye.

“A claw machine?”

A giant claw machine.

The claw slid—srrrrrk—then plucked sothing from the pile of plushies.

[boing!]

A 2D dot character.

With that classic arcade sound, a mini- Jiho popped out, and the fans scread.

As mini- Jiho dropped down—

the screen in front with five compartnts lowered the first cover.

“Jihooooooo!”

A red curtain slid down to reveal NewBlack’s sub-vocal, striking a pose with a smile.

On his right cheek, his signature color—red—was lightly swiped on like a paint mark.

“Gwaaaaaaah!”

That started it—mini-’s went pop! pop! pop!

Biju, hair dyed pink, shyly cupped his face with his hands.

Junhyun, gray hair in a bandana, smirked and posed.

Ri Hyuk, hair dyed vermilion, opened his eyes wide and pushed out the absolute cutest he could muster.

And then—

the leader with golden hair went pop! and sent a finger heart to the crowd.

The roar swelled—and then paused.

“Waaaaaaa...?”

We bounced out playfully to the thrust stage and then froze like mannequins.

Stop.

Fans tilted their heads at the mannequin-still mbers.

On the screen, arcade-style letters appeared.

[ INSERT COIN . . . ]

Blink.

Blink.

The phrase blinked for about three seconds.

Then, with the clatter of a coin rolling in—

[clatter]

—the stage lit even brighter.

The mont the stage for the title track of the second full-length album began.

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