“Digging well?” I asked, hiding my surprise as I echoed, “Digging?”

“Yeah, I wanted to check that first,” he said.

“I’m not sure if I’m good at it, but I have done quite a bit.”

“Really?” He folded his arms and fell into thought.

While Seok-hwan hyung went to the counter to order the PD’s coffee, I remembered last night’s call.

“Guys! You’re fixed for a variety show!”

Seok-hwan hyung’s voice cracked with excitement as he rattled off how hard he’d worked for a month, how he’d make sure we succeeded, how he loved us, and how he’d be upset if we slacked off, and that variety was tough—what would we do? Among all that, only two words stuck: “Around the World with Dice” and “Chuseok special.”

I asked again and again because it sounded unbelievable. “Around the World with Dice,” nicknamed “Jusehan,” was the nation’s variety show—number one in ratings across every age group. If competitor PBS’s “Mr. Producer” was a hit with young viewers, Jusehan was beloved by everyone. We’d thought he was joking. But looking at the grim man deep in thought in front of me, it finally felt real.

“Ah.” He shook his head as if coming to, discovered his coffee, and grinned. “Thank you for the coffee, Director.”

Then he turned to us, scratched the back of his head, and said, “You were all pretty stunned, right?”

“Not at all,” we chorused.

“I’ve been thinking about this special all day, so my mind’s been racing. I drafted every shot in my head, and to capture the right captions and scenes, I needed someone good at digging.”

“Ah...”

“Anyway, I’m late on introductions.” He smiled. “Nice to meet you, friends of NewBlack.”

“Hello! We’re NewBlack!” we all bowed with smiles.

The mood was warm. It was our first meeting, a light chance to get acquainted over coffee.

“You must feel dazed,” he said.

“Yes, really.”

“All rookie guests have the same expression.”

“I especially find it amazing. Around this time last year, I was watching Jusehan from my barracks.”

“Me too. At first we thought the Director was lying.”

He chuckled, glanced at Seok-hwan hyung, and said, “Be nice to him. He’s been bringing coffee and cake every chance he gets.”

“I was probably a real pest.”

“But thanks to that, we got this opportunity.”

He shared kindly, “In my PD career, when I meet guests, I often get a sense of how they’ll appear on ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) the show. With NewBlack, that feeling is especially strong. Not saying it as flattery, but I get a real picture in my head.”

He stroked his mustache and looked at Junghyun. “You’re Junghyun, right? I sense something special in you.”

“In me?” Junghyun cocked his head and sniffed at his shirt, making us laugh.

At that, the Director broke into a wide grin and asked, “Is this how you usually are?”

“Yes, he’s really unstoppable at times.”

“Great, great. We need one character like that in the mix.”

That seemed to spark his interest, and he peppered Junghyun with questions—where he grew up, whether he helped with farming, and so on. As the conversation went on, he drank less coffee and eventually pulled out his phone to take notes when the questions shifted to us.

“Biju, you’re skilled at cooking?”

“Yes, I’ve learned from blogs, TV, books—anything. I love it, and cooking for myself has been a habit since childhood.”

“Can you make holiday dishes too?”

“Yes, I have a video of me making jeon last Lunar New Year.”

He nodded and jotted it down. “And Rihyeok... let’s see: singing, quizzes, cleaning...?”

“Yes, yes! As the main vocalist, I love cleaning!”

We tried not to laugh at his nervous enthusiasm. The Director lit up. “You like cleaning?”

“Yes, I do...”

“Oh, perfect. I can picture that scene.”

Just as Rihyeok looked uneasy, the Director’s gaze shifted back to Jiho. “No need to ask you, Jiho.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t need to do anything special. Just standing there, the elders will love you.”

Sharp intuition. Jiho beamed, clearly proud.

“And Woo-joo...” He looked at me, eager to hear the story of what happened since last November, especially my military service. “I think there’s a lot we can bring out—together with Junghyun.”

He said “bring out,” not “dig,” but there it was again. That rugged man’s interest in me and Junghyun was thrilling. A nation’s top variety show, Chuseok special: exactly the best scenario we’d hoped for.

The ten-minute meeting flew by—our coffees were ice water by the end. As he rose to leave, the Director spoke to Seok-hwan hyung about filming schedules and pre-meetings, then suddenly turned to us.

“I forgot to mention something.”

“Yes?”

“You said you were worried about the mascot suit promise earlier. By the way, our team is discarding a prop. Want to take it? It was made for filming but never used.”

“...?”

“It’s really unique and cute.”

And ten minutes later, in the prop warehouse, we shouted “Eureka!”

Friday midday, the streets of Myeongdong were as crowded as ever—Koreans and summer-vacationing tourists from China and Japan chatting in their languages. Vendors sold ice cream and snacks, cosmetics shops and duty-free stores bustled. As lunch hour arrived, menu-holding staff dashed around. In front of one building, electric lines and amplifiers were set up.

“What’s this? What are they doing?”

Curious passersby stopped, forming a semi-circle. Some tourists wondered if a K-pop singer would appear; some said it must be a pungmul troupe; others hoped for a prize event. Suddenly, grand BGM swelled, and the doors opened to reveal the unexpected.

“Is that... penguins?”

Giant penguins waddled out—each a different species, each with a unique expression. Laughter erupted as people pulled out their phones. Baby penguins with soft down led, followed by a surly gentoo. Next came a regal, elegant penguin and a hearty emperor. Finally, the majestic king penguin with a crown appeared, sending the crowd into gleeful laughter.

“What is this?”

The more you watched, the more amazing it became. The emperor penguin’s movements looked uncannily real—like a nature documentary come to life. A couple whispered, “What’s this for?” “Maybe a kids’ event?” “But these penguins look scary for kids.”

These were the discarded prototypes made for a planned Jusehan Antarctica special. Yet the crowd expected penguin cartoons; instead, the opening chords that boomed were totally unexpected.

“Is that a TNT song?”

“Yes, it is!”

They played “BLINK,” TNT’s hottest hit in East Asia. The crowd’s attention snapped to the stage—and then the medley unfolded: Teens’ Spirit, Autumn Girl, Scarlet. Then—

“Ha ha ha!”

The five penguins danced in perfect sync to the K-pop choreography. Their wings flapped like energetic arms, their heavy bodies bounced with each step—thump-thump-thump, not the usual smooth sway.

Even in those mascot suits, two were standouts. First, the elegant aristocratic penguin whose cheerleader-like jumps and wing movements drew every eye. Then, as it stepped back, the emperor penguin took center, high-fiving the aristocrat with its wings. Laughter broke out at the sight of that grand, waddling king.

“It really looks like a penguin.”

Someone joked, “If you taught penguins idol choreography, this is how it’d look.” Then a mishap: the emperor’s crown fell off mid-breakdance. The penguin knelt, picked it up, and repositioned it, sending the crowd into fresh laughter.

After five minutes of penguin moves, the finale came. The baby ran to hug the gentoo, only to be swatted away. The gentoo and aristocrat tumbled over one another; the stately emperor penguin strode over and righted them with a poke from its plump belly. Then all five held wings and bowed. The audience erupted into applause and laughter, feeling as if they’d watched a comedy skit.

“Hey, stop pushing me!”

“My phone!”

By then, the crowd had swelled, half filming the show. Suddenly, a kindly man parted the sea of people and approached the penguins—probably a staffer. Everyone held their breath. If they were celebrities, they’d have appeared unmasked. So they must be dancers. Especially the aristocrat and emperor.

Finally, the staff helped remove the mascots’ heads. As steam rose and perspiration-drenched faces emerged, the crowd gasped.

“Wow...”

Beneath those suits were actors. No, they were so handsome they looked like actors. With each reveal, exclamations rose. The baby penguin revealed a youthful beauty; the surly gentoo a sharp-featured charmer; the aristocrat and great penguins handsome in contrasting styles; and at last, the emperor’s face appeared. The crowd fell silent.

The crowned penguin wiped his wet hair with a wing, then cracked a shy smile that stole hearts. “That was him?” people murmured, even as we introduced ourselves: “Hello, we’re rookie idol group NewBlack!” Yet they stared at those faces, imprinted forever on their minds.

When we received mics for our next performance and the fresh, unforgettable intro to “Fireworks” played, everyone knew they’d witness a song no one would forget.

The on-site reaction was incredible—beyond our expectations. We’d been nervous we couldn’t meet fans’ hopes, so we’d prepared something as cute and funny as possible. While practicing in front of penguin videos, I’d felt self-conscious, but the reaction proved it was worth it. All our efforts shone through.

“I’m Woo-joo, like ‘Universe in the Night Sky,’” I told Chinese tourists in Chinese characters, and to Westerners in English. I’d learned English and Chinese at TJ but wondered when I’d ever use them. Now I was grateful.

Using this communication, I taught overseas fans our name until it stuck in their ears:

“Do you like it? We’re NewBlack.”

“You enjoyed it, huh? Our first penguin performance.”

“Goodbye. We were NewBlack.”

I interpreted for all except Japanese. When speaking Chinese I had a funny moment: someone asked if I was ethnically Chinese, and I had to translate, “No.” They were baffled that Mr. Wang didn’t speak Chinese. I need to explain what “overseas Chinese” means to Jiho later.

With so many tourists in Myeongdong, we truly felt like Hallyu idols. It felt wonderful. Fulfilling our first-place promise and closing out music broadcasts made me feel the first album era was truly over. It began last May when I found a source track and rolled like a snowball to this end.

If I’d met my past self and told this story, would I have believed it? That my song would crack the Top 100, that “Night Sea” — which I roughly sketched — would find love as a radio demo, that Junghyun’s pump repair would land a spot on a national variety show, and that I’d be lucky enough to become a first-place candidate... I never would have believed it.

A happy laugh escaped me. Of course, this was just our first album era ending; we still had far to go. But for now, I wanted to savor this moment.

“You did great, guys.”

Surrounded by fans, my brothers chatted away as dusk painted the sky behind them in fiery reds, as if fireworks bloomed overhead. I paused and smiled.

July 25, 2014. With the dance of five penguins, our long first-album era came to its joyful end.