Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: New Black is Born
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Morning, 8:30.
Standing in front of all the gathered trainees, I declared the arrangement complete.
"What?"
Seo Ri-hyuk wore an expression like he couldn't believe his ears.
"How did you finish it in one night?"
"Well."
"...."
"Just kidding. It just came together as I worked on it."
The guy, who looked speechless, finally asked,
"You did it properly, right?"
"You'll know once you hear it."
The maknae grinned and chimed in.
"If it's a mess, it doesn't count. You owe us snacks."
"Hey, at this point, snacks are what matter to you?"
"Why not, hyung? They say even ghosts look good if they die full, so of course eating comes first."
While the maknae and main vocal bickered, Kim Jung-hyun, Kim Bi-ju, and the high school seniors chatted among themselves.
Something along the lines of 'He finished it already?' and 'Dunno, let's listen first.'
I took the USB the executive director had given me and plugged it straight into the speaker.
I felt a bit uneasy.
He said he'd handled the computer work, but I'd never actually heard it myself.
What if, after all my bold claims, it came out all busted and glitchy?
"Alright, playing it now."
Everyone looked half-doubting, half-curious.
Like, how good could an arrangement slapped together in a day really be?
But as the backing track started, the mood shifted.
Kim Jung-hyun mouthed an 'O' at the clean intro. He nodded, and Kim Bi-ju nodded along.
The maknae even stopped munching his chocolate, ears perked up.
Seo Ri-hyuk listened seriously too.
They seemed surprised by the overall high quality, then satisfied.
The first 30 seconds were for judging.
But after that, the trainees got fully immersed in the song.
Two distinctly different tracks.
After verse 1 ended, it flowed straight into verse 2 with a connecting melody in between.
At the somewhat unfamiliar section, the members tilted their heads in confusion.
"This is where Jung-hyun does his rap."
Everyone nodded, and the rapper Jung-hyun especially flashed a big satisfied smile.
He said the melody was perfect for writing lyrics to.
Then the rap part ended, and verse 2 began—structured with different music from verse 1.
Everyone listened tensely, but they all looked impressed by the smooth transition.
"So, what'd you think?"
I asked for their thoughts once the song finished.
"It's amazing. I was skeptical when you said you'd do it in a day, but I didn't expect this level of quality."
"The rap part's great. It just clicks."
"Too bad about the snacks, but I like it too."
No empty compliments—they all seemed genuinely pleased.
Phew, what a relief.
Truth be told, despite my big talk, I hadn't been totally confident.
It'd been two years since I last did any arranging, and I'd rushed it overnight—what if the reaction sucked?
But it was better than expected.
"Well...."
Seo Ri-hyuk was the last to speak.
"Consider it your win, hyung."
"Got it."
"I'm conceding because the quality's good."
I smiled at Ri-hyuk, who looked begrudging but resigned.
I'd achieved my goal.
Without leaning on age or trainee seniority, I'd earned the members' trust through my arranging skills.
"As promised, I'll have full say on the performance."
I recalled my pre-planned ideas.
"First up, role assignments."
* * *
Choreography by main dancer Kim Bi-ju.
Vocal directing by main vocal Seo Ri-hyuk.
Rap, naturally, by our sole rapper Kim Jung-hyun.
"So what about me?"
"Uh... well."
I hesitated, facing the maknae with his wide, sparkling eyes.
Couldn't exactly say he was useless.
No way was I going to say something negative to a budding sprout, so I came up with a good excuse.
"You handle logistics."
"Huh? What's that?"
"Keep everyone's energy up with snacks."
"Oh, that I can do."
The maknae nodded eagerly, like just give it to me.
"Oh, Woojoo hyung."
Kim Bi-ju rummaged in his bag and pulled something out.
A spiral notebook.
Labeled "Practice Notes," he flipped through the densely written pages to the middle.
"What's this?"
"After hearing your plan yesterday, I sketched a rough choreography outline. If you haven't assigned parts yet, what do you think?"
"Yeah? Let me see."
Stick figures moved across several pages, changing positions.
Crude drawings, but the intent came through clearly.
Looking at it, I gazed at him with newfound respect.
"You made this in one night?"
"Yeah."
"You're impressive too."
It was sincere praise.
Back at TJ Entertainment, I'd done group monthly evaluations and knew how tough choreography was.
To pull this off overnight?
And the quality was surprisingly solid—I was impressed.
No wonder he had dark circles.
Unlike the others, why'd he have shadows under his eyes? Turns out he'd gone home alone and worked on this.
"Alright, then we'll go with this...."
I paused mid-sentence.
Huh?
I'd spotted something off while checking Kim Bi-ju's choreo assignments.
It was so natural, I'd almost missed it.
"Hang on, I already did part distributions yesterday."
Part distribution.
For a group performance, first decide who sings what section.
Then you do choreography.
I pulled up the overview on my phone, compared it to Kim Bi-ju's choreo, and let out an admiring sigh.
"Wow."
"Why?"
The maknae, who couldn't stand curiosity, butted in.
"Check this out."
I handed over my phone, and the four huddled around.
Like me, they alternated between Kim Bi-ju's choreo and my parts, then blinked.
"What? Why are they the same?"
Kim Bi-ju's choreo assignments matched my part distributions by about 90%.
Near impossible in reality.
Unless we'd shared telepathy.
Him dividing choreo alone in bed, me arranging in the practice room—our thought waves aligning? Tough.
"...."
In that moment, a strange certainty washed over us all.
Like the omen before a massive hit.
Everything slotting perfectly into place—we quietly exchanged nods.
"So, we go with this?"
Everyone nodded at my question.
In under a day, parts, choreo, and roles were set.
Meaning the basic framework was done.
"Oh, what's our team name?"
"Team name?"
Kim Bi-ju smiled at my question.
"Usually based on agency, but with a new member, we're changing it."
"What was it before?"
"Lemon Boys."
Why was my face burning?
"Kinda weird, right?"
"Not kinda—really weird. Who came up with it?"
"The CEO."
"Sounds decent now."
The trainees giggled at my quick pivot.
Even temporary, picking a name was hard.
Devils, Yellow Green, Five Star—names flew like a word party, but nothing stuck.
Like picking late-night snacks.
You want something that hits just right in the dead of night, but nothing did.
"Just pick something. It's temporary anyway."
"How about Five Star?"
"No, Jung-hyun."
I shook my head at Kim Jung-hyun, fixated on Five Star.
He pleaded with eyes for agreement, but slumped at the members' cold rejections.
Seo Ri-hyuk's line was the finisher.
"Go with Five Star."
"For real?"
"I'll just quit."
"...."
We'd arranged, divided parts and choreo, yet naming was this tricky?
After much debate, the maknae piped up like he'd found something.
"Woojoo hyung."
"Yeah?"
"Hyung, where'd you get that sweatshirt?"
"This? K-Mart."
I chuckled.
"Like it?"
"Nah, I don't wear cheap stuff—it doesn't suit me."
Wang Ji-ho deadpanned, then pointed at my sweatshirt.
"Your sweatshirt has writing on it."
"This?"
"Yeah, what does it say? Jung-hyun hyung, read it."
"Chicken is the new black."
Hearing Kim Jung-hyun's fluent English, I looked at the text on my sweatshirt.
Wang Ji-ho said,
"How about that? New Black."
"New Black?"
"What do you think?"
Objections had flown at every name, but not this time.
It was safe.
I even searched online in case it meant something weird in English—no issues.
'The New Black.'
Expression for the latest trend.
"All in favor of New Black?"
Everyone raised hands.
And so, our temporary team name 'New Black' was set.
All that remained was practice.
* * *
December 2013.
As everyone wrapped up the year busily, we threw ourselves into year-end evaluation prep.
Thankfully, every New Black member nailed their roles.
"Alright, checking choreo first."
Kim Bi-ju whipped up impressive choreography in days.
Might be amateur to pros, but it fit our taste perfectly.
But the high difficulty hit hard—everyone but me dropped like flies daily, like hell's gates had opened.
Especially dance-weak Seo Ri-hyuk, whose face paled by the day, but he thrived in vocals like a fish in water.
"I can't hear your vocal tone, Bi-ju hyung. Do it like usual. You're not using your real voice."
"Sorry. Must've messed up my breath at the start."
"Back to the downbeat."
Scarier than a tiger teacher—sharp pointers flew at any mistake, forcing our skills to skyrocket.
"Hyung, wanna hear the rap?"
Rapper Kim Jung-hyun delivered too.
The lyrics' rhythm nodded approval, flow saving beat and rhyme.
As rap ended, the maknae rushed like an EMT, handing Jung-hyun chocolate.
Adorable every time.
Thus, we gave our all in our domains.
December 28.
For the battle ahead.
* * *
December 27, day before year-end evaluation.
Long time no talk—I called Grandma.
After a few rings, bustling noise and her crisp voice hit my ear.
-Uju!
"Yeah, Grandma. It's me."
-What's up at this hour?
"Have I ever called just for business?"
I chuckled back.
"Ah, missed your voice, so I called."
-Such a rascal.
"Swearing again."
-You do swear-worthy stuff daily.
"You're too much, really. Grandson calls 'cause he misses you, and this?"
Her grumbles from the receiver brought a smile.
"Ready for tomorrow?"
-All set.
"If you're not feeling well, rest at home. No big deal coming to Seoul."
-Gotta see it.
"Right?"
-Yeah. If I don't, you'll hold it against me forever—'Grandma, I was hurt back then'—how could I not go?
Fair point.
"Honestly, it'd be great if you came."
-Right?
"Yeah, yeah. That's why I got a gift this time. For you."
-What? More nutrition cream?
"Nah, something else."
I'd bought her clothes at the department store recently.
Secret till tomorrow, though.
"The nutrition cream from last month? Using it well?"
-Savng it. That foreign stuff's great.
Her happy tone swelled my chest.
"Tell me if you want more. Got my signing bonus—I'm rich now."
-Rascal again.
"For real. Buy tons of cosmetics. Gotta get those grandpa dates at the senior center."
-Enough, kid. If I were a guy, I'd run. Your grandpa put me through hell till he died....
Wrong topic.
Grandma machine-gunned complaints about late Grandpa like a motormouth.
"Grandma, gotta go now."
-Why? Don't wanna hear?
"Nah, practice time. Brothers are calling."
True enough.
From the hall, maknae-dog came bounding from afar.
"See you tomorrow, Grandma."
I hung up.
* * *
Madam Kim Deok-soon sighed after the call.
"Lord, that rascal."
What was he doing till now? Heartbreaking.
Idol, of all things.
Crying and clinging for that—what was it worth?
I'd been secretly glad when he quit.
But back at it.
'What can ya do? Kid's twisting his own fate.'
Idol this, idol that since kid days—made it here.
Tomorrow's some evaluation.
Having laid out tomorrow's outfit, Madam Kim Deok-soon applied skin cream before bed, then remembered something.
Drawer item.
Second drawer held an old drawing.
She pulled out the weathered sketch paper, time's touch evident.
[2nd Grade Class 1 Seon Wooju]
Below crude writing, a picture.
Yellow crayon spotlight, little kid at piano singing.
[Future Dream: Space Star]
[Teacher, I'll be the most famous person in the world]
Madam Kim Deok-soon prayed deeply from her heart.
Buddha in heaven.
Please.
Make our grandson succeed this time.