Chapter 827: Is This the Land of the New Black? (3)

"Hello! Viewers! It’s NewBlack—back in My Hometown for the first time in a while!"

"Waaaaaa!"

"How long has it been since we were on the show?"

When I tossed out the question, Ri Hyuk caught it.

"Almost a year. We did our farewell stage with Dokkaebi."

"It really has been a long time."

PBS .

A TV program beloved most by seniors in our country, a long running show with nearly thirty years of history.

A program that travels through rural fishing and farming regions and every local area, showing what’s happening in towns across the nation, filled with that warm, earthy “people smell.”

And.

It was also our number one benefactor—the one that firmly planted the modifier “national idol” onto us.

-Hello! My Hometown viewers! We’re NewBlack!

Our first appearance was two years ago, in early 2016.

Back when we were touring small theaters with Winter Sleep, we appeared to promote our name in each region.

We did a special corner for about a month, then got fixed into the weekly “Local Bulletin” segment—introducing special festivals and events in each area, and reporting things like typhoons and monsoon season.

At first, we only planned to appear for a month and stop.

But seniors liked us more than we expected, and we kept going out of a sense of loyalty....

-Hot hot hot!

-If young folks are Souffle, then we’re Songpyeon.

-NewBlack kids! Hang in there!

Before we knew it, not only did we have a senior fandom....

-Wooju!

-Out of those, Junhyun is the most handsome. He looks like he’d farm well.

-When’s Jiho going to grow up, seriously.

We’d become idols whose names even seniors over sixty knew.

-‘National idol’ NewBlack.. experts on their popularity “Appearing on My Hometown was a god move”

-[Review] “From Famous Song Squad to My Hometown Now”.. how NewBlack became a public close idol

-100 experts asked and answered “It’s old talk that boy groups have no public appeal.. the era of national idols is back”

Thanks to benefiting from the show so much, our successor on the program ended up being Serenity, the top girl group.

According to the PD, there were already ten idol teams asking to come in as Serenity’s successor.

Even now, I heard idols appear from time to time, dreaming of becoming “the second NewBlack.”

Anyway, that was how deep our connection to the program ran.

So when we said we wanted to appear again this time, the PD accepted right away.

-If it’s NewBlack, you’re welcome anytime.

Yes, it was an excuse to pretend we weren’t here for the opening ceremony, but honestly, there are plenty of ways to come secretly.

We just really wanted to return.

Along with the Wife Fishing we did recently, it was a program that let us reach a middle aged and older audience that’s usually hard for us to access.

"How do you all feel, being back on the show after so long?"

I asked the members like an MC, and a variety of answers came back.

And among them was one person who looked so happy he might start crying....

"I’m so happy."

It was our rapper, who came from the countryside and had been a die hard My Hometown viewer.

"Even when we left My Hometown, I was seriously tearing up and everything... but coming back like this makes me so happy. Dad, Mom. I’m on TV."

The sight of him waving at the TV with a hand like a bear paw made the onlookers burst out laughing.

Then we gathered our hands together with the members.

"In celebration of hosting the Pyeongchang Olympics! A Pyeongchang special!"

"NewBlack is with you!"

Alright, together—while prompting the crowd for energy, we raised our joined hands.

"Pyeongchang! Pyeongchang!"

"Fighting!"

With applause, we shouted fighting and lifted our hands into the air.

A drone floating in the sky went bwooong and drifted farther away.

It was probably the kind of shot that would pull way, way back for the opening screen, with a title like [NewBlack Has Returned] slapped on top.

"Alright, alright! We’re moving locations!"

"Make way! We’re moving!"

The filming staff moved busily, and surrounded by citizens, we kept filming.

This was Pyeongchang’s famous buckwheat food street.

Ri Hyuk explained.

"This is the setting of the novel Buckwheat Flowers in Bloom. Bongpyeong, the novel’s background, is in Pyeongchang."

"That’s why there’s a buckwheat food street."

The maknae pointed.

"Hyungs! There’s a statue of chopsticks holding buckwheat over there!"

"Ooooo!"

In front of a statue of a huge hand lifting noodles with chopsticks, we took a commemorative photo together.

A buckwheat food street packed with signs like “Dumaesangol” and “Buckwheat Pancake Specialty.”

"Come to our shop!"

"Aigoo! My sons!"

Shop owners who’d heard the news tried to pull at our sleeves while hustling customers—

and we went into the restaurant the production team had arranged.

"Welcome!"

"Oh my! Oh my... he’s really so pale...."

"Look at Ri Hyuk. He’s like a baby."

I didn’t know if a baby could look this mean, but I agreed that Ri Hyuk’s skin was amazing.

While the owner neatly set down wet towels, we looked over the menu.

"What should we order?"

"I know what we’re supposed to say in moments like this."

Biju smiled calmly.

Then he ordered.

"Everything from that end to that end, please."

"That solution exists...!"

The owner laughed hot hot and immediately started preparing the menu.

Buckwheat spring rolls.

Buckwheat bibim noodles.

Potato dumplings.

Buckwheat jelly cold soup, and more.

Soon, a buckwheat noodle soup packed with fine ice crystals arrived, and the members and I put our hands to our cheeks and screamed.

"That looks so good...!"

"Crazy."

Looking at good food made us naturally more affectionate.

When I took a sip of the sweet and sour broth with ice crystals, it felt like my salivary glands were filling up instantly.

The ice crystals brushed past my teeth with a shaaak—pure bliss.

"Heuh heuh heuh heuh heuh."

"Uh heuh heuh, this is nice."

While Biju gently dabbed at the maknae’s mouth smeared with red broth, the nearby customers started talking to us.

"NewBlack kids!"

It was a middle aged man with a red nose, like he’d had a glass of makgeolli since morning.

"Why are you here?"

Then he looked at me and made a face like he’d reached enlightenment.

"Wooju, you got dragged along for the opening ceremony. Your lackeys too!"

"Hahahaha!"

At the word lackeys, the lackeys burst out laughing.

"The opening ceremony? Sir."

I put on an intentionally firm expression.

"I am not appearing in the opening ceremony."

"I can tell you have a face you make when you lie, Wooju."

"Really?"

"No, you don’t. I set a trap."

"......"

Then he made a mischievous face.

"The fact you’re not saying it isn’t a lie means you really are appearing."

"No. I’m not."

I shook my head and denied it, but the atmosphere was that nobody believed me.

"I declare it again right here. I, the Wooju Ship, will not appear in the Olympics opening ceremony."

"Then not Wooju Ship—what about Seon Wooju?"

"......"

"Hahahaha! Do well at the opening ceremony, Wooju!"

I avoided their eyes and just slurped down buckwheat noodles, and laughter spilled out from everywhere.

Just as the owner brought out a service dish—potato tteok, a Pyeongchang specialty—

"Uh...."

The assistant director behind the camera timidly whispered.

"Um, NewBlack...."

"Yes?"

"Could you possibly eat the noodles with a slurp sound? I think it’ll look better on screen."

He was asking us to make noise so it’d be easier to add broadcast audio.

Ri Hyuk asked back.

"Wouldn’t it be better to eat quietly? Since it’s a program seniors watch."

"Ah. Right... that makes sense...."

The assistant director nodded, convinced.

It wasn’t a hard request, but no matter how I thought about it, it didn’t feel like the elderly audience would enjoy it.

Isn’t it basic table manners not to go slurp slurp smack smack while eating?

I considered asking the elders nearby, “Do you think it looks tastier if we make noise?” but if I did that, it would feel like I was scolding the assistant director PD who’d just asked us, so I decided not to.

"Ah. I ate so well."

"Hyungs, I’m so full...."

Rubbing our buckwheat stuffed bellies, we smiled contentedly.

A nearby customer said,

"Aigoo. If you eat that much, will you even be able to eat again later?"

"Don’t worry."

We smiled with confidence.

Just like the elders said, we were really full, but there was nothing to worry about.

"A noodle belly empties fast."

"Ah. That’s true."

"And... the more you move, the faster it empties."

We slowly stood up together.

When the customers saw us pulling Bluetooth mics out of our bags, their eyes went wide.

"That’s right."

We chuckled.

"We’re taking requests, everyone."

Immediately, every single hand in the restaurant shot up.

Starting from the buckwheat food street, the production team and we toured every corner of Pyeongchang County.

"This is the Balwang Mountain cable car...!"

"Biju, we’ll go up somewhere high!"

We promoted the Balwang Mountain cable car that Pyeongchang County had been pushing as a tourism product lately.

And along with the nearby snow sledding hill, we also visited the trout festival that was said to run through the end of this month.

A place packed with people dropping lines through ice holes on a frozen lake.

And.

"Wooju!"

It was also where I could feel just how much impact Wife Fishing had.

Middle aged men surrounding me.

"Wooju, here, here—hold this, hold this."

"This?"

Men who somehow even produced a long tree branch.

Middle aged men stood near me and advised me like they were teaching a golf swing.

"When I saw you last time, your posture when you fish was bad. That’s why you don’t catch fish well."

"You gotta fix your reeling posture too."

"Your posture has to be stable to catch fish. That’s why you don’t catch fish and only catch seagulls."

With my eyes gently closed, unable to argue back, the members burst out laughing.

For a long while, men I’d never met before approached me familiarly and corrected my fishing posture.

I’d definitely copied world class pro anglers, but to these men, it wasn’t good enough.

"It’s unfair. I’m actually really good at fishing.... Honestly, I probably caught the biggest fish here."

That provoked the middle aged men into pulling out their phones.

With their presbyopic eyes, they held their phones far away and dug through their photo albums, each showing off their biggest catch—

"Hahahahaha!"

I laughed and showed them a sailfish photo.

A three meter My Precious sailfish.

But the reaction wasn’t good.

"Aigoo! You guy!"

One man slapped my padded back.

He looked genuinely heartbroken, and I panicked.

"Why?"

"If you spoil the broadcast, what do we do!"

"What?"

"Aigoo! Then the broadcast won’t be fun...! I was avoiding the internet just so I could watch this without spoilers...!"

The way they treated me like a criminal, like I’d spoiled a movie by saying the cripple was the culprit, was just unfair.

It only made me realize again how popular Wife Fishing was with the middle aged audience.

While the man who’d been spoiled looked sad, other men who’d been laughing asked me,

"Then Wooju, are you not fishing for trout today?"

"No."

"Yeah... if you’re going to play piano at the opening ceremony, you need to rest your hands."

"The opening ceremony?"

I made a face like it was the first I’d heard of it, but everyone only smiled warmly and nodded.

I whispered to Ri Hyuk, who was standing nearby.

"Am I that obvious?"

"It’s kind of obvious. Around now you should be catching fish like you’re doing magic, but you’ve got two layers of gloves on."

"......"

"Switching to one layer won’t make it less obvious. Just keep them on."

It seemed my attempt to protect my hands for tomorrow’s opening ceremony was pretty telling.

Well.

Even now, whenever I tried to pick up anything, the lackeys moved like a five minute standby squad to do it for me.

"Today, don’t do anything. If there’s something you need, we’ll do it all."

"Then scratch my nose."

Ri Hyuk raised his hand and gently rubbed my nose, lightly, lightly....

"It’s itchier."

"That’s what you asked for."

"Hey!"

"Then I’ll go fish for trout now."

I clicked my tongue as I watched the main vocalist run off with an annoying grin.

Our members and the staff, focusing on fishing with lines hanging down into holes all over the ice, raising and lowering their hands.

The contest for the title of NewBlack’s greatest hand fishing king—

the winner was....

"Oooo!"

"Wow...."

"Look at Biju. How many is that now?"

Since only two fish could be taken out, he kept releasing them back, but Biju had caught more than ten fish with his bare hands.

Our main dancer, catching fish with a shy smile.

People who hadn’t caught a single one even after an hour gathered near Biju, murmuring.

"The trick is this."

As people pricked up their ears, Biju lifted the line with the bait attached.

"You just have to think about dance in your head."

"Dance?"

"Yeah. Think of this line as your body and dance. Imagine a little fish a trout would want to eat, and then like this, gently—"

Our main dancer used a snap to make the line sway, and people marveled.

"Oh my."

"The bait is dancing. It looks like a real fish."

It was the hand skill you’d expect from our second member, who had taken first place in a dance competition among idols known for dance.

Biju smiled and asked,

"See? Easy, right?"

"......"

The people who’d asked for the secret scattered, heading over to Junhyun, who had caught the second most fish after Biju.

"How could it be...."

"Not everyone in the world can dance like you, Biju."

With a sad expression, Biju stared into the air, and Jiho and I patted his shoulder.

After Balwang Mountain’s cable car and the trout festival, we visited the Pyeongchang traditional market.

Since one of My Hometown Now’s main agendas was revitalizing traditional markets, we spent a good amount of time on this too.

"What’s this?"

"It’s chwijul pyeon—tteok made with Siberian chrysanthemum greens."

"Wow.... It’s really chewy."

We looked at all kinds of rice cakes, along with potato tteok, one of Pyeongchang’s specialties.

"Please tell us about the effects of buckwheat cabbage pancake!"

"Buckwheat that’s good for you and cabbage are gathered together here. If you eat this, it lowers body heat and helps digestion."

We filmed segments with the market vendors, with the intent of “Please come visit!”

And.

As a finale, we went to Mitanmyeon, where the Songpyeon people who had sent fan letters to Pyeongchang County lived.

"Hello!"

"Oh... th, this—what is this...."

We laughed as we hugged grandmothers and grandfathers who were so shocked they cried.

We signed our My Hometown posters hanging in their homes, chatted with the people gathered at the village hall....

It really was healing.

With us sitting politely with our knees tucked under, elders poured advice onto us.

"They say American food is salty as hell. Even there, eat plenty of kimchi. If you only eat hamburgers, your personality gets sharp and you get sick."

"Ah, what matters is eating. When you’re growing, you can eat anything. You’re still at the age where you’re growing."

"Yeah! How old is Jiho?"

The maknae opened his eyes wide and said,

"I’m twenty one."

"That ain’t growing age."

When we teased him, laughing that he’s getting old now too, the maknae shot us a look.

That was just the start, and the elders’ precious advice kept coming.

"From what I see, Americans only listen if you sing in English. How’s it going, putting out songs in English?"

The kind of tone you’d use to ask how civil service exam studying was going.

"Once you get gastritis, there’s no answer~"

"When you leave later, I’ll pack you cabbage juice, Wooju. Drink that."

People worrying about my stomach.

But in this holiday like atmosphere, the best part was the encouragement.

"Since you’re famous, those 기자—whatever—those reporter bastards will say this and that, but don’t mind it. Since old times they said don’t even eat reporter shit."

"Ah, you shouldn’t eat shit. What are you saying, old man."

"Is that so. Anyway, don’t mind the nonsense... whatever you do, we watch while cheering you on... that... that’s what I’m saying."

Hearing that they would support me no matter what made my chest feel warm.

All day, I’d been frozen stiff with pressure ahead of the opening ceremony performance—

and when one grandmother hugged me at parting, telling me to hang in there, my eyes stung a little.

It must be that kind of day.

Like when you’re tense and stiff before something big, and if someone asks, “It’s hard, isn’t it?” tears just gather for no reason.

"Then we’ll get going."

"Do well at the performance tomorrow!"

We waved with laughter at the people telling us to do well, and also said goodbye to the production team.

"Thank you for your hard work today. We’ll edit it nicely."

"Thank you. See you again."

After saying goodbye to the production team, it was just us.

Cold winter wind.

Looking around a village in Pyeongchang County piled with soft snow, I took a deep breath.

As soon as the broadcast ended, the pressure of the opening ceremony suddenly surged back in.

Honestly, it’s just a short moment on TV, but thinking that I have to go up alone at the Olympics opening ceremony makes my body tremble a little.

Like someone before a major exam, I felt an impulse to run away somewhere—then shook my head.

"Are you really nervous?"

At Ri Hyuk’s question, I smiled and held up a finger.

"A little?"

"You’re really nervous. That’s why we said we should record today. Look, the moment it ends you get tense."

"If I’m being honest, I’m nervous enough to die. Seriously."

Hundreds of millions of people around the world will watch, and I have to go up on stage for a performance where it’s my dad’s song of all things.

It was only because people all day had cheered me on, and the younger guys had taken care of me—

if I’d been resting alone in a hotel room, I might not even have been able to eat properly from worry.

Biju smiled and said to me,

"It’s time to go, hyung."

"Ugh."

It wasn’t even the actual performance tomorrow, just rehearsal, and I was already nervous.

Jiho said,

"Still, don’t be too nervous, hyung. We’ll take care of you properly today."

"Thanks."

As I felt grateful to the younger guys, Junhyun pounded his chest and said,

"From now on, don’t move even a fingertip, hyung. Today I’ll be your hands and feet."

The Mitanmyeon residents waving from far away as they saw NewBlack off.

"Stay healthy, goodbye!"

"Go well!"

As the residents waved hard, raising their phone cameras and taking burst photos of NewBlack—

"I’ll be your hands and feet today."

As Junhyun’s words rode the wind and reached them, the Songpyeon people’s eyes went wide.

'They’re so close!'

The Songpyeon people were moved by the declaration that he’d become his hyung’s hands and feet—

when Wooju, who’d heard “hands and feet,” pointed at Ri Hyuk and said something.

Then Junhyun moved like a robot with red light in his eyes.

"Kkyahahahat! Kkyahat! Ah! Stop it!"

Junhyun tickling Ri Hyuk, and Wooju watching it and enjoying it.

The residents smiled warmly.

'So that’s what “being your hands and feet” meant....'