Morning.
Souffle mbers who were sluggishly starting their day suddenly had their eyes light up.
‘It’s Y App!’
[Surprise live begins!]
NewBlack: Ran tastes best when cooked over coal briquettes
The unusual title made them tap the app imdiately.
The video began playing.
No.
It looked like it would start playing—but it did not.
[Temporary error has occurred. Please try again.]
So many people were trying to access it that they only got in after pushing through the connection queue once.
Only then did the mbers’ faces appear.
They were sitting around a table with steaming bowls of ran in front of them.
“Souffleeeee! We’re here!”
“Yay!”
They were smiling energetically, though sohow their faces looked tired.
Biju brushed back his hair and explained.
“We just got back to the hotel room. Today we had a charity fundraising party related to Seon Myeongju’s concert.”
Souffle nodded.
‘So it just ended.’
Dostic dia had not reported it heavily, but on social dia the fundraising party was everywhere.
Photos of NewBlack standing shoulder to shoulder with world famous billionaires and celebrities were circulating online.
Stories were also spreading about Wooju’s jazz performance receiving huge reactions at the event.
‘Is this real?’
Watching the news from far away, Souffle felt slightly dazed.
There was even a faint sense of distance.
“It’s late at night and we couldn’t sleep, so we wanted to see you all.”
Wooju said with a smile.
“The party was exhausting, but all I could think about was wanting ran.”
“Seriously. The kind of party you imagine...”
The mbers struggled to find the words.
Ri Hyuk continued with a blank expression.
“It consus a lot of energy. You stand all day and have to greet important guests.”
“Ugh...”
That explained why they looked so drained.
Apparently they were not suited to parties, judging from the way they stared at empty space with watery eyes.
The fans laughed.
At that mont Junhyun announced sothing serious.
“But everyone. We’re eating ran and we don’t have kimchi.”
“That’s right...”
Korean viewers collectively groaned.
Radish kimchi for beef soup.
Pickled radish for black bean noodles.
Kimchi for ran.
“Maybe it’s because we’ve been eating so much good food in Arica. We suddenly wanted the taste of Korea.”
“But there’s no kimchi...”
“The noodles will get soggy. Let’s just eat.”
The mbers slurped noodles miserably.
At the sa ti, they began sharing funny behind the scenes stories from the party.
The atmosphere felt like soone returning ho and telling their family everything that happened that day.
Just as Souffle were laughing—
—but hyungs you’re eating your second bowl right???
A comnt appeared.
The mbers imdiately protested.
“Second bowl?!”
Junhyun raised three fingers.
“This is the third bowl.”
“As you probably guessed, we couldn’t start the live when we ate the first and second bowls.”
“If you had seen us earlier, you probably would have turned away.”
Ri Hyuk pointed at Jiho’s shirt.
Sure enough, ran broth stains were everywhere.
The five of them chatted noisily again.
So quick witted Souffle began noticing sothing strange.
‘Hmm?’
Every ti Korean comnts flooded the screen, the idols reacted as if they were chewing kimchi.
“Hehe.”
Souffle tilted their heads.
‘Is it just my imagination?’
But when English comnts flowed by and then Korean comnts appeared again—
the mbers’ noses flared with happiness.
“Hehehe.”
They were clearly inhaling happily every ti they saw Korean comnts.
Souffle’s eyes narrowed.
‘Wait. Why do I feel used?’
‘Did you guys start this live just to read Korean comnts?’
There was a reason they suspected it.
“Hehehe.”
One mber held both cheeks and made a strange delighted laugh whenever Korean comnts appeared.
The fans snorted.
‘Fine. You’re cute so we’ll forgive you.’
Souffle began typing Korean comnts rapidly.
The comnt count exploded.
And the mbers’ response to those comnts was—
“Everyone!”
Ding.
Jiho’s smiling face froze on the screen.
[Temporary error has occurred. Please try again.]
Fans shed tears.
Fortunately I slept well last night.
Talking with acquaintances and eting Souffle through Y App probably gave so emotional stability.
“Yaaawn.”
I stretched and smiled at the managers.
“Did everyone sleep well?”
“I slept like I was dead.”
At Mingi hyung’s words, I nodded.
I had been sleeping poorly recently, but yesterday I slept deeply.
“Using English makes it twice as exhausting.”
“We used interpreters and it was still tiring. You guys must have been even worse.”
“It feels twice as hard compared to doing schedules in Korean.”
I said with a cheerful smile.
“But today feels much better than yesterday. It finally feels like life has returned to its normal genre.”
“I know what you an.”
“That’s why we talked to fans yesterday.”
Yesterday really felt like a dream.
Not a good dream—just a surreal one.
Life has genres just like movies.
Romance.
Cody.
Action.
But the fundraising party yesterday did not match the genre of my life at all.
It was fun, but it felt like the main characters of a romance movie suddenly filming a spy thriller.
Like Ri Hyuk suddenly going to the gym and shouting “Protein!”
“You know that feeling when sothing is real but doesn’t feel real?”
“Of course.”
The managers laughed in agreent.
As the car headed toward my solo schedule location, I stretched again.
“Anyway I think I’ll stay away from parties like that for a while. They don’t suit .”
Clinking cola glasses with the mbers at a barbecue restaurant felt much more like my style.
“Wooju, have you seen this?”
Wonseok hyung held out a tablet.
On the screen was a large English headline about yesterday’s party.
[A record breaking fundraising total raised for the return of a genius after twenty years.]
A photo showed the mbers singing while I played the piano.
News articles from famous entertainnt magazines and arts sites.
I returned the tablet with a satisfied smile.
“That’s good publicity.”
“Not just good. Huge. Anyone following this scene would know.”
“Standing all day yesterday was worth it.”
I happily looked at the reactions.
Then I looked out at New York.
Today was our final day in Arica.
While the mbers practiced for KMA at the hotel, I had etings.
After dinner with Chairman Wenger of Leblanc tonight, everything would be finished.
“We’re here. Get ready.”
A building with a unique square design ca into view.
Today’s eting place.
Lincoln Center.
Where Juilliard was located.
“You’re here?”
“Yes. Did you eat?”
“I had a hamburger but I’m craving kimchi stew so badly.”
“When we go back to Korea I’ll buy it for you.”
Ha Seungju PD from Korea and mbers of the Seon Myeongju Foundation greeted us.
“The man responsible for the one million dollars has arrived!”
“Hahaha!”
We exchanged light hugs with famous musicians including Paul Laurent.
This was one of the performance halls inside Lincoln Center.
Ho to the New York Philharmonic, the tropolitan Opera, the New York City Ballet, and the famous Juilliard School.
I had dread of this place while preparing for music school entrance exams.
Yet sohow I had co here for an entirely different reason.
Life is strange.
“Is it okay to hold a eting here?”
“Yes.”
Ray Barkley, a jazz professor at Juilliard, smiled.
“There are not many places that can hold this many people.”
“That’s true.”
Looking at the audience seats filled with people, I walked onto the stage.
More than three hundred people sat before .
Musicians.
Producers.
Staff.
I tapped the microphone.
“Let’s start with a Korean greeting. Did everyone eat well?”
“Yes!”
Everyone here was involved in the details of my father’s concert.
Although sitting before such famous figures was nerve wracking, it was exciting.
“First of all, as you’ve heard, we raised a record breaking amount.”
Cheers and applause erupted.
“So we plan to expand the scale much more than originally planned. Instead of just major cities in Korea, the United States, Japan, and Europe, we are considering a world tour.”
Everyone nodded.
“I’d like to hear your opinions.”
The first agenda item.
How to select perforrs.
The discussion beca intense.
Eventually we divided perforrs into three regions.
Europe.
North Arica.
And individual countries.
Arican perforrs would help with Korea and Japan.
Unfortunately Korea alone did not have enough jazz perforrs connected to my father.
Most had entered the classical music world.
So Arican perforrs would assist.
“What about the concert schedule?”
An event planner answered.
“The Korean concert should happen first. Considering the amount of unreleased music, the earliest possible ti might be January.”
“January?”
“It has to be that early to fit everyone’s schedules.”
Everyone here had their own careers.
They planned to finish the entire tour before the second half of next year.
“The sooner the better.”
I smiled at the perforrs who had volunteered.
Then we discussed recording schedules.
As the conversation continued, the energy in the room rose.
Everyone shared the sa feeling.
Let’s do our best.
Then—
“Those who have agreed to perform, please co forward.”
When the sheet music copies were revealed like presentation slides—
the excitent exploded.
“Wow.”
The perforrs’ eyes sparkled.
They realized yesterday’s performance had only been a preview.
Then—
“Oh no...”
An older drumr held his forehead.
Everyone looked puzzled.
“What’s wrong?”
The elderly musician sighed and pointed to the sheet music.
“I recently updated the jazz textbook with the latest research... but after seeing these masterpieces...”
He smiled faintly.
“I’ll have to rewrite that section from the beginning.”
Everyone burst into laughter.
I laughed too.
After promising to keep in contact with the perforrs.
We finished the day with dinner with Chairman Georges Wenger.
A restaurant overlooking Manhattan.
The main dish was premium lamb steak.
“I heard Ri Hyuk is sensitive to food slls. That’s why I chose this restaurant. There is no odor at all.”
“Oh. You’re right. It slls wonderful.”
Even Koreans sensitive to lamb odor noticed none.
As we cut our steaks, the waiter filled our glasses with wine and cola.
Chairman Wenger then delivered the expected ssage.
“Leblanc will always be waiting for you.”
He began whispering sweet offers.
Private yachts.
Hos in Arica.
Money.
Lots of money.
Seokhwan hyung later revealed the reason.
After my fashion show appearance, Leblanc clothing sales rose thirty percent globally.
In Korea they increased four hundred percent.
The so called “Granny Chic” style exploded.
Now I understood.
The answer was simple.
Money.
If one mber generated this profit—
what if he signed all five?
Chairman Wenger’s eyes glead like soone collecting every piece of Exodia.
Designer Jimmy Robbins even showed sketches of my t Gala outfit.
My interest rose instantly.
But the mbers’ interest dropped.
On the way back they concluded:
“The fashion style doesn’t match us.”
“I don’t think we’ll sign with Leblanc.”
I quietly apologized in my heart.
Sorry Chairman Wenger.
Recruiting my mbers seems to have failed.
Ignoring the imaginary voice saying
“Then what about my one million dollars?!”
I looked toward JFK Airport.
Our flight back to Korea was waiting.
But for so reason—
the back of my head suddenly felt cold.
anwhile.
A graduate student was experiencing the joy of combining fandom and academics.
Her na was Sonya Adams.
Her thesis title:
The Concept of Freedom and Aesthetics in Seon Myeongju’s Music.
She had chosen the topic for a simple reason.
Wooju’s father.
But when she showed the thesis to Professor Ray Barkley—
he sighed.
“Sonya... your thesis only covers works up to 1999, right?”
“Yes... he passed away in 1999.”
“But new sheet music was just released. Completely different style. People say jazz textbooks must be rewritten.”
Sonya’s face slowly turned gray.
“You’ll probably need to rewrite the thesis...”
“....”
Soon afterward.
She stumbled out of the office.
“Nooooo—!”
And collapsed screaming in the hallway.
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