The expressions on our faces froze as we watched the laptop screen. A tense silence filled the studio while Street Boys enthusiastically performed their debut stage.

“Damn it,” Rihyeok muttered.

“It’s one thing for companies to compete,” he continued, “but this is too much. What did we ever do to them to deserve a diss like that?”

“We don’t know what their situation is over there,” Biju said calmly, trying to soothe our main vocalist, though his own face was grim.

Everyone felt the same. The maknae bit his lip, eyes glued to the monitor, and even Junghyun—who’d been snacking—paused to stare intently. Competition is one thing, but this crossed the line.

Our anger wasn’t just because they dissed us—it felt like a betrayal. We’d been trying to treat DNS and Street Boys as separate entities, blaming any underhanded tactics on the company, not the group forced to follow orders. I’d even told the team that friendly rivalry can be helpful, but resentment or jealousy only hurts everyone. Until just moments ago, we’d been complimenting Street Boys’ performance—up until Han Jo’s rap line:

“We don’t have Something,

But what’s that anyway?”

To be honest, it felt like a sucker punch. I’d still thought of them as friendly competitors, but now I realized they’d been thinking of us that way all along.

“Let’s watch through their showcase,” I said, trying to calm my juniors. “During Q&A, the press will definitely bring up that rap. Let’s hear what they say, then decide our response.”

Their debut stage ended, and the showcase proceeded smoothly. A famous comedian was the MC, and Street Boys, like true rookies, looked nervous and awkward. Finally came the Q&A. As I’d predicted, the first question was about that rap.

“I’m Sohee Oh from EntertainmentIN. Congratulations on your debut. My question is about the lyrics of your title track, ‘Hunger.’”

Street Boys’ members grabbed the mic, visibly tense, as the reporter continued: 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

“In the song, there’s Han Jo’s self-written rap: ‘People say you don’t have Something. But what’s that anyway?’ Personally, I thought of New Black’s ‘Something’ when I heard that.”

That was exactly the question I wanted.

“Given that New Black and Street Boys are in competition, don’t you think those lyrics were intended as a diss? How do you, as the song’s producer, respond?”

The member in the leather jacket stood, tall and good-natured. Han Jo, the leader, turned toward the reporter with a perfect smile.

“I want to say that’s not the case at all. That rap refers to our personal experiences. We’ve heard people say, ‘You’ll never make it,’ ‘You’re not good-looking,’ ‘You lack star quality.’ By saying ‘you don’t have something,’ those people meant we lack something. The rap means we don’t care about that.”

He had the nerve to lie straight-faced—and I could tell it was intentional. Normally, when asked about an unexpected controversy, you’d be caught off guard. But he answered as if he’d known this question would come.

“Unbelievable. If you’re gonna diss us, at least own it.”

While Rihyeok scowled, Han Jo smiled serenely and added:

“And when you said we’re competitors, I want to say we don’t see you that way.”

“Excuse me?”

“You debuted before us, so in a way you’re our seniors in the industry—people we respect.”

“Respect us?” the reporter asked.

“After making ‘Hunger’ our title track, I learned how much effort goes into creating one song. I had the help of professional composers, but New Black’s leader composed entirely on his own. Frankly, that would be impossible for me.”

His praise felt ominous—too neatly stacked compliments. Then he said:

“And co-composing ‘Something’ with senior Jang So-won, plus hearing him speak at Music Café—I truly believe he has more talent than anyone I know.”

Han Jo smiled in the screen.

“Watching a genuine genius at work feels like witnessing a miracle.”

Hearing that smile, I realized he’d just dropped a much bigger bomb than his rap diss.

Headlines exploded:

– Street Boys’ Han Jo: “New Black’s Woo-joo is a genius”

– Street Boys: “New Black aren’t competitors. They’re genius seniors”

– Fueled by hunger and grit, Street Boys wrap successful showcase

During and after the showcase, articles flooded in. Ironically, our company was the one scrambling. As soon as the live stream ended, Yoon Seok-hwan dashed off to an emergency meeting called by the producer. All because of the shit Han Jo had thrown.

On the surface, there was no issue—they’d lavishly ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) praised me as a “genius.” But beneath it lay a calculated power move: the highest-level form of check and balance. The public tends to view self-produced idols skeptically—“How talented could an idol really be?” So when a title track by an idol exceeds expectations, people say, “Wow, that’s decent.” But if someone then proclaims, “He’s a genius,” that raises the bar so high that anything less than extraordinary feels like a letdown. It breeds resentment or disbelief: “How could it truly be that good?” It can also generate curiosity, but either way it’s risky for their rivals.

“Our fans are furious,” Junghyun said, scrolling on his phone. “Everyone sees it as a direct attack, then he dodges by calling you ‘genius’ and ‘respected senior.’ They’re livid.”

Our own fans were the angriest. They’d been waiting so long for their favorites to debut, only to have some random group diss them publicly. When they confronted Han Jo, he sneakily sidestepped it with flattery—making it all the more infuriating.

“In most idol fandom forums, though,” Jiho added, showing me his screen, “comments are more like, ‘Street Boys’ song is good though’—indifferent.”

He scrolled through comments under “Post-show group photo of DNS rookie Street Boys”:

“Those outfits are tacky.”

“Congrats on debut.”

“The two guys in the center are my type.”

“The center one wrote the title track, right?”

“I didn’t expect much from an idol self-composed song, but it’s actually decent.”

“No standout visuals.”

“Did they spend all the budget on the song instead of styling?”

“Song’s good though.”

“Missed hip-hop concepts since Sixty Seconds—hope they boom.”

“Tough concept but they nailed it.”

Calm reactions, as usual for rookie debuts. Praises for the song, too.

User reaction to the diss lyrics, however, fell flat:

“Is ‘Something’ really that big a deal? Genius—please.”

“Just lip service.”

“Genius? They’re just blowing their own horn.”

“Really curious how the song sounds.”

“Yeah, I’ll check it out.”

“Weren’t they competitors? These guys are practically promoting New Black—makes me wonder.”

I’d inadvertently become the “genius composer” everyone was curious about. Surprisingly, responses weren’t all negative. Many said, “I want to hear the song,” which meant Street Boys’ ploy had backfired—generating interest for us.

When I wondered how to motivate my team during the final week before our showcase, Yoon Seok-hwan returned from his meeting and told us:

“We discussed various countermeasures, but it seems there’s no right response. We can’t run articles saying he’s not a genius, nor can we claim our song is better. Let’s focus on our showcase for the remainder of the time.”

He and I agreed: there was nothing more to do. The coaches and staff had done their part; now it was up to us, the performers. In some ways, Street Boys’ strategy had helped me—it freed me from worrying about what to say, letting me concentrate on pushing my team.

Their eyes burned with determination.

“Hyung, let’s work like our bones will break.”

Watching my juniors speak those words, I smiled quietly.

One week later—Wednesday, June 18, 2014, at the Media Art Hall in Cheongdam-dong:

[New Black 1st Single Album “The New Black: First Chapter” Showcase]

Reporters yawned as they booted up laptops. With time to spare, familiar faces gathered in small clusters to chat.

“Hey, Reporter Oh! I saw you at Street Boys’ showcase.”

“Hello. So many showcases this month—next week, that rookie from Our Harmony is debuting too, right?”

The topic, of course, was the June rivalry.

“Who do you think will succeed more?”

“I’m betting on New Black.”

“DNS has no knack for boy groups.”

“Street Boys’ streaming numbers look solid—they charted at 99 on their first day.”

A rookie debut charting immediately is rare these days.

“Those fandom wars stirred interest too.”

“But a self-composed song charting is impressive.”

“Rumor is only their leader wrote the rap; the composer handled most of the melody. His credit was almost just a name.”

“Well, who writes songs alone these days? Almost everyone collaborates.”

“Right. The unique thing is Woo-joo—he really wrote it himself.”

They nodded.

“I heard from DNS insiders their first-week sales are decent. Impressive.”

“It’s great. I didn’t expect a hip-hop concept after Sixty Seconds.”

“We’ll see. It’s only week one.”

“But ‘Hunger’ is really solid—it’s bound to rise.”

Then discussion shifted to us.

“What about New Black? Anyone have a tip?”

“I drank with Lemon’s PR team a few days ago. They said the song is great—definitely worth waiting for. Lemon doesn’t speak with such conviction unless it’s amazing.”

“Bluffing? I’ve never heard of an idol self-composed song being that good.”

“They must be genuinely talented. His dad too—at Music Café he played piano like a pro.”

Someone added:

“And look at Lemon’s investment—they really put everything into this. They hired Hwang Tae-sun for the jacket shoot.”

“Hwang Tae-sun? He only works with top stars.”

“They also got Director Jung Seong-mun for the MV—he shot TNT’s hit MV last year.”

“Wow. That’s a huge investment for a rookie group.”

“It means they believe in this album’s value.”

One reporter clicked his tongue:

“And CEO Park Gyu-ho—he’s no ordinary guy. Lemon began as a one-man agency, now they’re top three in actors. They just signed a bunch of free agents.”

“Indeed. He never dives into anything he’s not sure of.”

“Right. Scarlet looked like just another pretty girl group at first, but they proved their talent.”

The more they talked, the more anticipation grew. For a mid-tier agency to invest so heavily in a rookie group—it must mean the songs are extraordinary.

Finally, someone said:

“Looks like it’s about to start.”

Announcements requested audience to take seats, then lights dimmed completely. The screen lit up—first, the music video.

On screen: a black frame and the sound of dripping water.

“Drip.”

“Drip.”

The image brightened, revealing a girl. Daisy, Scarlet’s cameo rapper, stepped gracefully across a water-flooded floor, wearing a gentle smile.

The lighting was mysterious—dark yet bright. Daisy walked through the darkness, then stopped before a transparent glass wall. She placed her hand on the glass, smiling elegantly, and blew on it with a soft “whoosh.” Graphics transformed her breath into sparkling white light that scattered across the glass.

As the light passed through, it split into five colors—red, yellow, blue, green, and purple—like a prism. Those rainbow rays darted through a star-speckled cosmos, then recombined into black. The logo appeared:

[The New Black]

Suddenly the screen cut to a blazing daylight sky. On an exotic shore, five young men emerged. At that moment, the song began—a crisp, refreshing prelude that opened our ears to summer’s promise.