When I first heard the radio schedule was set, I thought the live performance would fall short. Unlike a stage facing an audience, on radio the singers and listeners can’t see each other. I imagined we wouldn’t fully feel the audience’s reaction, and I regretted it. But the moment I saw the chat feed before me, I realized I was wrong.

“That was surprising. I was thrown off because there were no comments, but it was just lag,” Jang Sa-won said, clicking her tongue. “It’s the first time I’ve seen that since I became a DJ.”

Comments scrolled up so fast we couldn’t read them all. Seeing emoticons like “^^” and “ㅠㅠㅠ,” I knew the reaction was overwhelmingly positive. Even without reading the content, I felt it—like when an audience cheers and you feel their excitement.

The DJ addressed us, eyes twinkling. “Usually we say our goodbyes right after the live, but we lost our timing with listeners’ responses. Since it’s like this, shall we each say a word of thanks before we go?”

“Um...”

If it had been any other time, words would have come easily. But perhaps still filled with “Night Sea,” my mind felt blank. I stammered out what I could.

“This song was written recalling childhood memories, but tonight’s live performance has given me a memory to match. Thank you so much for giving us this opportunity. We’ll keep showing you our best.”

“Yes, that was New Black,” Senior Sa-won said, clapping. “Thank you to New Black for sharing this beautiful night with us. You’ve all worked hard!”

“Thank you!”

We bowed toward the camera—our gratitude to the unseen audience.

Between the youngest member’s “fireworks” pun, the advice segment, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° and the live stage, I’d already guessed we’d done well today. But seeing the staff’s faces made it real.

“Great job, New Black,” the PD said, clasping our hands with a smile I recognized. It was the same expression he’d worn after that Music Cafe recording. The main writer and engineer chimed in too.

“Today’s broadcast was full of sense, and your chemistry with Sa-won was great. For your next album, clear your schedule. We’ll have you back solo.” 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

“Right. Mi-kyung, they’ve got real potential—we should claim them early.”

At the main writer’s words, we beamed. I wanted to show this to Seok-hwan hyung. See, hyung? We get booked again.

“Oh, here’s our album,” I said, handing over the first CD we hadn’t been able to give him because of the cake incident. They were delighted. It reminded me how powerful music is: even still basking in the mood of “Night Sea,” the staff treated us kindly.

“Where’s the autograph?” someone asked.

“The cover is black, so it’s on the inner sleeve.”

“Wow, the autograph is beautiful.”

The sub-writer seemed especially thrilled. Just an hour ago, in the elevator lobby, she hadn’t made eye contact with us. Her tired face was now full of smiles. She joked about checking our fan café later, and when I thanked her, she said it wasn’t a joke.

Having farewelled those preparing to leave, we looked for Senior Sa-won collecting her things in the booth.

“Our little ones are already superstars. Hardly see you around anymore.”

I laughed. “Compared to you, senior, we’re fireflies before the sun.”

“Right. Like plankton, so tiny.”

“Then I’ll upgrade to krill shrimp.”

She laughed at our plankton-krill banter, then nodded at the staff beyond the glass.

“You guys don’t know—these people aren’t usually so kind to rookie guests.”

“Really?”

“It just means your song was that good.” She looked at our main vocalist. “At first I worried if Ri-hyuk could pull it off—if he could convey the emotion and theme. How’d you know?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ve sung together over two months.”

She spoke as though it were obvious. I’d had no clue until she said it—experience is amazing.

“I was so worried, but you did so well I was surprised. I even wondered if you were the same Ri-hyuk I knew.”

“...I got a bit of help.”

Her eyes lit up as she glanced at me, as though she knew who helped. While the staff chatted about members and managers’ updates, I got a text from Mingi hyung saying he’d arrived. I pulled a gift from the guitar case.

“Oh my, what’s this?”

She delightedly opened the box. I nodded at her question—yes, she could unwrap it.

“Headphones?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“I owe you a lot, senior.”

There was good reason. Without her advice, our debut showcase would have been a disaster. No unaccompanied live, harsh press reactions. At first we considered a necklace or accessory, but that felt inappropriate between senior and junior.

“When preparing the advice segment, we reviewed past episodes. Jung-hyun said your headphones looked old. So we pooled money and bought these for you to use on air.”

“We included the receipt and exchange voucher too.”

Ri-hyuk’s words shattered the touching moment—she laughed. I shot him a glare; his expression said What, I’m just telling the truth. Senior Sa-won, who’d been wearing her old headphones snugly, rubbed her ear and looked at us. Her eyes curved into half-moons.

“Thank you. I’ll use them well.”

Her smile made me glad I’d given the gift.

The corridor outside the soundproof radio center was quiet. With round-the-clock broadcasts, another studio somewhere was still talking with listeners. Passing through the metal door to the lobby felt strangely like entering another world. Tomorrow it’d be back to our usual music shows...

“Ah, you startled me.”

Two people sat miserably beneath the elevator buttons.

The Street Boys: Han-jo and Ki-won, whom I’d deliberately forgotten since the live. They brightened when they saw us.

“Oh, you’re here.”

“...What are you doing here?”

“We were waiting.”

“For us?”

“Yes.”

Han-jo scratched his cheek awkwardly. “I felt I should say goodbye before we left. It’d be weird to just go.”

“Oh... okay.”

As we exchanged awkward compliments about each other’s live performances, Han-jo cleared his throat and beckoned his junior.

“Ki-won, you said you had something to say.”

“Ah, um...”

From his powerful on-stage persona, Ki-won reverted to timidity. He fidgeted before finally speaking to Ri-hyuk.

“I, I wanted to talk to you... privately.”

Ri-hyuk nodded, and the two main vocalists headed to a corner of the lobby. The atmosphere was odd: one spoke cautiously, the other nodded as if he already knew. Each time, the speaker’s face brightened. What were they saying? About their old agency, or about today’s broadcast? I felt like a parent reading a child’s diary, wanting to know their thoughts. I turned, and Han-jo gave me the same expression. In the awkward air, Han-jo finally spoke.

“Thanks for the help during the live. I was so focused on my own rap prep I couldn’t look after my junior. Without you, our guy might have flubbed from the start.”

“Oh, yes.”

“And personally, to Woo-ju... I owe you an apology.”

“Hmm?”

“For, um... well, some things I did.”

“I see.”

“I wanted to say this now. Next time we meet at a music show, with the managers around, we won’t have the chance.”

“That’s right. With the bosses there...”

“Sorry.”

He hit me with that suddenly. I wondered how to respond—it wasn’t right to say “It’s okay,” and “I know” felt off. The relationship was delicate: rivals tied together. And we didn’t know what might happen next. Today I realized they weren’t so bad. But the agency was another matter: whether our second or third album, DNS Media could always interfere—and those members had no veto. Complicated.

So I said what I could.

“Right. Let’s meet from now on for good reasons.”

We’re not friends, but at least we won’t ignore each other at music shows. Han-jo smiled gently, as if that was enough. Watching them return, I asked,

“Well, since we’ve opened up, do you want to exchange numbers?”

“Oh... about that...”

He looked embarrassed and showed me an old feature phone.

“It’s a shared company phone. Every month the agency checks call and message logs. They wouldn’t like non-company numbers popping up.”

I winced remembering Manager Park. Once again, I was glad we joined my agency.

To avoid the waiting manager’s gaze, the Street Boys took a different elevator. Only Ri-hyuk and I remained. Watching the floor numbers descend, I spoke.

“Ri-hyuk.”

“Yes?”

“What did you talk about with them?”

“Nothing special.”

He shrugged. “Just stuff—told him about things from three years ago, thanked him for today’s broadcast, that kind of thing.”

“I see.”

When the doors opened, our conversation cut off. A few steps into the lobby, my phone vibrated—it was on Wi-Fi.

Bae Eun-mangdeok [Wang Ji-ho sent a gifticon]

Bae Eun-mangdeok [Wang Ji-ho sent a gifticon]

Bae Eun-mangdeok [“Hyungs, I love you so much”]

Bae Eun-mangdeok [“You know my precious heart, right?”]

Bae Eun-mangdeok [(emoji)]

In the group chat, gifticons and pleading-hands emojis kept appearing. Ri-hyuk’s mouth twitched upward.

“What will you do?”

“Leave them unread.”

“Good idea. He won’t think you forgive him just because of gifticons.”

While the youngest—who only had money—flooded us with gifticons, I checked other messages. From Kim Deok-soon. Wow—thirteen lines of commentary.

“It’s grandma?”

“Yeah. She says she loved the song. And... what’s this?”

“What?”

“She says I don’t know how to wash Nari.”

“You know?”

“No.”

I googled roughly and sent her a link. Suddenly about a cat. I was puzzled briefly, but then pride and warmth filled me reading her message. She really loved “Night Sea.” The fact that our normally laconic grandma sent such a long message, every word dripping emotion—especially her final line, “Your grandma loves you”—made my eyes sting. I closed my phone. I’d video-call her when I got back to the dorm.

As I bowed to the guard at the gate—looking like a fare gate—I left the elevator lobby.

“Oh.”

I looked up at the short exclamation and joined the line of sight.

“Wow.”

The HBS building was glass on all sides. The moonlight flowed everywhere. With the lights off, the first floor was dim, bathed in moonlight—somehow it felt so lyrical. I fell into a sudden curiosity.

“Hey.”

Ri-hyuk’s dark eyes absorbed the moonlight as he looked at me.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“About that youngest Street Boy—when you handed him your water bottle. Why did you do it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

Ri-hyuk looked away. “I was trying to capture a feeling—thinking of someone I’m grateful to. I wondered, if it were that person, what would they do in this situation? I guess they’d smile at the nervous kid and help him.”

“So you gave him your bottle?”

“...Let’s forget that.”

“Forget? I’ll milk it for three days.”

He glared at me; I glared back. I joked to lighten the mood. Soon our car arrived; a text told us to come to the station entrance. We waited there in the cold air until...

“Hey.”

A quiet voice came beside me.

“Thank you for today.”

What was he saying? He blinked at me, still looking at the night sky.

“This was my first radio appearance, and I was so nervous—worried I’d mess up my lines or the song. Thanks to you, I prepared well all week, and today too...”

“...”

“So, I just wanted to say thank you.”

I felt strange. Did I hear that right? He, who always avoided or dodged “Thank you,” suddenly said it. My mind spun. Amid that tangle, I heard:

“What are you doing?”

Startled, I saw our van had arrived—our license plate. Ri-hyuk had already taken a few steps and turned to me.

“Don’t zone out, hurry up.”

His usual cold expression returned. It looked exactly like normal, making me wonder if I’d imagined it. If not for the clear glint of his earlobe in the dim night... I matched his pace and smiled.

“Hey, wait. I’m curious about one more thing.”

“What now?”

“You said you had someone you’re thankful to—who is that?”

His face crinkled in a strange smile, as if I’d caught him. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. It just tickled me.”

“What’s so funny?”

I kept asking as we walked toward the vehicle, but he wouldn’t answer. We talked on the way in, then climbed in. The night was oddly poetic, with cicadas somewhere.

An hour later, when we arrived at New Black’s dorm and the two members launched into battle with the youngest over snacks—one telling him to stop, the other feeding him dried squid—on every music platform, the song titled “Woo-ju & Ri-hyuk – Night Sea (Original Ver.)” was just being uploaded.