In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The presenter smiled as they called the winner.

"Blue Moon!"

In that instant, a wild roar erupted from the audience.

[cheering]

While the singers on the floor murmured at the ear-splitting noise, my younger members and I jumped to our feet.

"Hyung!"

"Guys!"

We won. We won.

Maybe I was a little too excited—Junhyun hugged us so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. In the racket, I could feel the heat of our breathing as the boys and I exhaled.

We squeezed each other tight, then let go and all grinned like fools.

"Let’s get up there."

We bowed and shook hands with the singers around us who stood to say "Congratulations!" and clap.

We moved out along with the singer who hugged her husband and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

Following Hayley as she swung her arms and strolled, we climbed the steps to the stage, and my legs wouldn’t stop trembling.

"Congratulations, from the bottom of my heart."

I thanked the supermodel offering us two trophies with a smile. Hayley and I each took one.

"Uh—huh..."

It was even shakier once I stepped onto the stage.

When we perform, I go blank and just do it, but trying to calmly give a speech, the singers in the front row really stood out.

Cold Brown, Mandy Spice, Logan Smith... is this real life.

Back as a trainee I sometimes imagined "me, the greatest Asian star, cheered by American singers," then cringed and shut the thought down.

Somehow reality was even more over the top.

I glanced back at my tense younger members, hands clasped tight, and waited for Hayley’s speech.

"Thank you, Billboard."

There was only one mic, so Hayley and we would split the remarks.

Unless it was a grand-prize-type category like Top Artist, most people kept it to about 30 seconds to a minute and stepped off.

Hayley’s clear eyes sparkled with joy.

"I won’t swear like last time. It’s a live broadcast."

The audience laughed.

In Korea she’s known as a trouble-magnet celeb who causes scenes in America, but the way people here looked at her was... how to put it.

Like the funny kid every class has at school.

"I’m truly grateful for this Top Collaboration award. To the outlets that called me washed-up last year—are you watching? While you were writing from your rooms or smearing me on entertainment TV..."

Her slender finger tapped the trophy.

"I’ll be taking this and getting on a private jet with my handsome husband and my lovely daughter to go home."

Maybe they’re as sick of tabloids and gossip rags as we are—celebrities laughed and whooped at her speech.

Hayley raised the trophy and shouted:

"I love you, Chris. And Mommy loves the world’s best daughter, Summer Blue. And... I share the honor of this award with the songwriter, singer, and my friend who made it possible—NewBlack."

I bowed slightly to Hayley as she stepped back with the trophy, then I took my place at the standing mic on behalf of our group.

"First, thank you sincerely for this award."

The audience chuckled.

I guess the contrast between Hayley Blue’s wild energy and our formal tone landed.

"We’d also like to give the honor of this Top Collaboration award back to Hayley. Without you, this song wouldn’t exist, Hayley."

She shot a finger-gun and winked.

"Every year when we stand on stages in Korea, I feel the same, and I feel it now—I’m honored to receive an award in front of the singers I admire and love. When I studied songwriting, I learned so much listening to American music."

A little respectful flattery to puff the Americans up.

Then I named people we were grateful to.

"Blue Moon is a product of all that. Our producers helped so much, too. Thank you, our producing team."

We couldn’t list everyone due to time, and this show didn’t really invite that kind of speech.

So I mentioned the most important people.

"Souffle!"

[cheering]

"Honestly, the moment we stepped on the awards stage today, the moment I heard your cheers, I felt like it didn’t matter whether we won. The support and energy you gave us were the most precious prize."

The venue froze for a beat.

As I wrapped up and started to step down—

"Hyung! Hyung!"

Jiho called me.

"Grandma! Grandma!"

"Ah."

I hurriedly leaned into the mic and shouted:

"To all our members’ families, we love you. And especially... my lovely Deoksun! I adore you!"

Then I yelled, "Grandma, I love you!" in Korean and headed down.

At the same time—

"Oh ho."

American viewers smiled at the handsome man who took the mic after Hayley Blue’s whirlwind of a speech.

"Dang, he’s handsome."

Being hot is the best. It thrills me. I love it.

Contented smiles spread across women’s faces.

"He seems to have a great personality, too."

"Right?"

"He said he studied composition listening to American music."

They pictured a foreign kid with an old radio in an attic, studying music.

Succeeding out of a dusty town with beat-up cars to become the top boy band in Asia....

Maybe because the face made the story feel plausible, a whole Slumdog Millionaire spun up in an instant.

While Americans—who often know little beyond their own lane—let their imaginations run—

"Especially... my loving, lovely Deoksun, the one I cherish most."

Americans went oh.

"A romantic."

"Duck-Soon..."

"With a face like that, his girlfriend must be unreal, right? Like Asia’s top model or an actress."

"No, maybe it’s someone he’s been with since childhood."

A boy too poor to buy a ring, offering a flower ring with a broken heart, and a girl smiling beautifully.

A sweet love story bloomed in their minds.

"Who on earth is Duck-Soon?"

As debates went back and forth—supermodel, actress, or a civilian girlfriend—one group watching TV opened a search site.

They typed in Duck Soon.

"...Huh?"

There was an entry on a fan info site labeled "NewBlack Wiki."

[Kim Duck-Soon]

...An old lady popped up.

Not girlfriend. Grandmother.

"...Ah."

The Americans who’d been fantasizing stared off with warm smiles.

"Oh, that’s not it."

"Even better. He’s single."

"If there’s a Most Eligible Bachelor poll, I’m voting for him."

Anyone in Korea watching would have muttered, "What the hell are they even..."

After we finished our speeches and came down backstage, my chest felt light.

"Whew."

The second I tried to take a deep breath, the boys all held out their hands.

"Hyung."

"Me first."

"Me, me!"

Starting with the most hyper maknae and ending with Biju, the trophy passed down the line through their hands.

A golden trophy.

A vintage 70s-style microphone shape with our name and the category "Top Collaboration" engraved on it.

Biju smiled.

"We really won."

"Things you never expect happen, huh?"

"I’m so happy. Really."

Still beaming, he handed the trophy back to me—and our maknae, who’d been lying in wait, snatched it again.

"Haah!"

Hugging the trophy like Gollum, he made Ri Hyuk reach out to pry it away.

Junhyun marveled.

"Oh. So this is the legendary trophy skirmish among Billboard winners."

Biju and I burst out laughing at Junhyun’s line.

He wasn’t wrong.

It’s "only" Top Collaboration, but we can say it now anywhere: we’re Billboard winners.

If I meet Taehyun or Eunseong, I’ve got brand-new material to tease them with.

— Sun Wooju, you idiot.

— So did you win a Billboard or what?

— Shaking! I’m so stunned I’m speechless!

While I pictured happy little scenes, Hayley, who’d been chatting cheerfully with the model presenter, came down backstage.

But...

"Ahem."

She suddenly turned haughty.

Right before we went up, she’d been mumbling modestly, "We might not win..." Where did that go?

Shy Blue out, cocky Blue in.

"You boys."

Hayley tilted her chin, putting on airs.

"Now I can say it—this was my master plan all along."

"..."

"I provoked the organizers who didn’t want to give you the award so they’d have to. My stratagem."

"Hayley."

I smiled.

"Don’t lie."

"Insolent Sunny..."

She snorted, then slung her arms around us like always.

Even with two trophies already in hand, the extra one had her giddy.

"The more awards, the better. At this point in a career, taking one is standard—the only question is how many."

"Boooo!"

She said over our boos:

"You’ll be like that soon."

"Yaaaay!"

"Simple creatures..."

We walked with Hayley down the familiar hall.

Just like KMA winners head down to the photo wall for separate interviews, the Billboard Awards also had a post-win interview block with media.

It was unfamiliar, but we watched Hayley and followed her lead.

"Whew—"

On the way back to our seats, Ri Hyuk let out a long breath.

"Ugh, I’m drained."

"Right? I feel my body’s energy just drop out."

"Let me hold onto a wall for a sec."

"Ah. Hold up."

I mimed building an invisible wall for him and got smacked on the back for it.

"Ow."

Maybe because my back was soaked with cold sweat, the slap stung extra.

Why were my legs shaking too.

Not just Ri Hyuk—we were wiped. Physical fatigue stacked on mental fatigue.

More than the joy that both stage and award had gone well, it was like the strength left our bodies at the fact that the job was done. Once we let go of the taut string we’d been gripping, our energy just slipped away.

Maybe that’s why—

"Don’t doze."

"If you fall asleep, it’ll be broadcast live to Korea. Hold it."

"Hold."

We fought hard not to nod off while watching the rest.

People are funny.

When we first entered the Billboard Awards hall it was all wowww!, but after an hour or two everything felt familiar, like what we always watched.

"Top Artist of the year! Let’s meet the nominees for this great honor."

The show’s grand-prize equivalent, Top Artist, went to Hayley Blue.

They said it was her first Top Artist since the 2014 Billboard Awards.

With eyes a little shiny with tears, Hayley parodied the Titanic director’s speech—"I am the queen of the world!"—and the awards wrapped.

"Good work."

"Really, amazing job."

We hugged and shared our joy, staying to the end to wave to Souffle.

Thank you.

Because of you, we made it to Billboard.

I guess the stage really did hit.

"Watching your set, that’s what I thought. Huhh... what am I looking at right now? You guys showed me a whole new world, friend."

"Cold Brown’s throwing an after-party. Are you coming?"

"I honestly thought it was magic. When you started dancing, the air in the hall flipped. Watching, I went... oh, I want to sing up there with Hayley Blue like that."

We ended up in long chats with singers we’d greeted before the show, and with those we hadn’t.

Loosely translated, they all meant:

— Your fandom is huge. That "Coin" song made the Hot 100 on fandom power, right? Let’s become something deep and lasting together.

— I want to stir the pot with your name—come to the after-party.

— How about a collab?

The industry here was even more of a shark tank than Korea.

We smiled and talked with the hands creeping our way.

To a singer eager to broadcast their collab hunger, Biju smiled and said:

"Thank you for taking interest in us. It’s such an honor to meet an artist we’ve always respected."

Stuffed with praise and compliments—ultimately saying nothing.

As the singer chuckled and walked off, Biju wore a satisfied smile.

"After playing Youngae in From Now On, We, I learned a lot, hyung. I can deploy the Youngae style of speech at will now."

"Th-that’s great..."

Everything’s great.

We were a little tired, but we decided to see it positively.

Think who these people are.

If there’s profit, they swarm; if there’s loss, they cut you off—this industry is famous for that. If those people cling to you sweetly saying let’s be friends, it’s a good sign.

Honestly, before we performed we were basically "Mr. Antonio Perez, a singer from Spain attending the Korea Mango Chart Awards."

From the red carpet, thousands of Korean fans crowd in sobbing "Antonio!"... while domestic celebs look puzzled. Every time Antonio appears on the Mango Awards screen, there’s a "Waaa!"

Then Mr. Antonio Perez suddenly shows up on stage in a duet with senior Cha Woo-hyun and belts "Blue Moon" in Korean. And he shows a never-before-seen incredible dance.

The Korean singers see that and go, "Ah! Now we get it."

"So ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) who is this Antonio again? Last time you said it was a Mr. Gonzalez from Argentina."

I answered Ri Hyuk’s question.

"I’m saying it’s that kind of vibe."

"That... does sound about right. Singing in English this time boosted the image too."

Showing Blue Moon—a hit already—on a first-ever stage probably helped. The local reaction felt more welcoming than wary.

In short, we got through our debut here smoothly.

"Whatever, post-mortem with the TF team later... for now, let’s greet Souffle."

"Yessir!"

After a brief live on Y-app to share our joy with Souffle—

We took commemorative photos with Hayley Blue and the staff we’d shared the stage with.

We snapped selfies to post on social and shook hands with the dancers.

And then—

"There you are."

Mr. Hanson, who’d worn a cannibal costume, hugged us with his clean, unmade-up face. The old man’s eyes were moist.

"Thanks to you lads I had an experience of real value. When I see my boys at Thanksgiving, I’ve got a mountain of stories. Much obliged."

"Not at all."

"If I ever write my memoir before I die, I’ll stamp your names right at the start."

"...Th-thank you."

After warm photos with Helen—who played one of Dracula’s brides—and her two colleagues—

We faced Lucas Ronson, who’d acted by Hayley’s side as Dracula all night.

The handsome man, rid of his makeup, smiled.

"Thank you. Really."

An aspiring actor who squeezed our hands and said he was grateful for everything.

"I’ve gotten a huge opportunity. I’ll work hard with the Bone Crash spirit I heard about before."

"You’ll do well."

I had a feeling he would.

Like when you watch rookies on a music show and just know those kids are going to hit.

At our words, Lucas said:

"And if I ever do make it big... I’ll definitely repay this help."

"Ohoho."

At "repay," we called our manager over and brought the behind-the-scenes cam.

Our maknae beamed.

"I didn’t catch that—could you say it again?"

"...Uh... th-then, I, Lucas Ronson, want to become an actor who can give NewBlack a big favor someday."

"Any favor?"

"Uh... um...? Yes."

As Lucas, bewildered, declared "I will repay you!", we smiled contentedly.

Verbal contract executed.

"Hahahahaha!"

A hopeful deal to secure a future vassal.

Truly, a happy day.

"Gyaruk! Kyarruruk!"

Lucas Ronson turned away from the backs of the NewBlack members cackling like dopes.

"People I’m grateful for."

In one sense, people who maintained an almost laughably light attitude—but you could never take them lightly.

Back at the variety shoot he hadn’t known, but once he rehearsed with them, they were... scary.

They kept laughing, then stripped the smiles and said what needed fixing in rehearsal—every note exactly on point. He’d seen them bite their lips and swallow hard alone even for one misstep in the choreography.

Even that sweet B, when he messed up his mark, ran a hand through his hair and sat in a corner—so intense you could hardly talk to him.

They’d stew alone like that, then a minute later, once they clustered together, laugh again.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

The applause they got tonight almost felt inevitable.

They lashed themselves with whips in practice so hard there was nothing onstage for anyone else to lash.

What filled that space was applause and awe.

It had only been a day or two, but Lucas Ronson drew huge inspiration from NewBlack.

"Lucas!"

From a distance, Chris Kyle waved as he walked over.

Looked like the talent agent he’d said he’d introduce.

After a quick greeting, the agent looked him over and asked:

"Ready for some auditions, Lucas Ronson?"

"Ah."

Lucas answered.

"I’ve decided to use a stage name."

"A stage name?"

"Yeah, Lucas Ronson doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, so I’m going to use a stage name."

"Good. What name?"

Lucas thought back a few weeks.

At a budae jjigae place, the NewBlack maknae had given him a tip on how to pick one.

"Using something you see every day can work. Like this macaroni here."

"Macaroni... Roni Lucas. Not bad."

Lucas Ronson snapped his eyes open.

"From now on, I’m going to work as Roni Lucas."

"Oh!"

If the NewBlack members had heard, they’d have rushed in to stop him... but his heart was set.

And thus—

"I am Roni Lucas!"

The seed of a glorious future black mark that NewBlack sowed in America began to sprout.