Chapter 857: Answer (10)

Before the music began,

Wooju asked the audience to access the music platform.

“The lyrics are in English, so they might be difficult to understand intuitively. That’s why we uploaded Korean translations on the platform.”

Lemon Entertainment had personally created and uploaded the translation.

“When I listen to foreign music, the hardest part is always interpretation. Especially with hip-hop, you often need to understand slang and cultural context...”

That was why they had made the translation themselves.

“Since Cold and I worked on the lyrics together, we understand them well. And we also received help from a professional translator. I hope it helps you enjoy the music.”

Perhaps because they had read the lyrics beforehand,

Even if they still didn’t fully understand the English, the audience grasped the overall meaning.

But right now, the lyrics weren’t their main focus.

‘This is good.’

From the very first intro, professors and music students smiled.

The classic jazz saxophone sound created by Wooju.

The hip-hop beat created by Cold Brown.

Blended together, it created a sound that was both classical and refined.

“Marcus said,

Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be.”

Cold Brown murmured the opening line.

“Be one.”

The leader of NewBlack answered in a low voice, drawing cheers.

As the melody of Answer began in earnest, piano joined between the saxophone lines.

The American rapper in a black hoodie raised his mic.

“Talk to me. Father.”

A line asking for answers from a father—or a priest.

I get in my Bimmer on my way to work

Saw my reflection in the rearview mirror

And I wondered

What the hell am I even doing right now

Yeah, I know

I know my life is enviable

The rapper who had achieved everything began listing it.

The king of East Coast hip-hop.

A house with a swimming pool.

Daily parties.

A yacht.

Countless trophies.

Then Cold Brown smiled slyly.

I’ve got everything—except a Grammy

So don’t laugh too hard

The audience burst into laughter.

Still smirking, he leaned the mic back as the chorus from the track played.

Go ahead, laugh all you want

Except you, Grammy

Stepping back, he gestured, and the mood shifted slightly.

Then came the question.

If I’ve achieved everything—what now?

I imagined myself standing before the River Styx

The ferryman of the underworld asks me

Who are you?

A question one faces before death.

Who am I? What should I pursue?

So he began peeling things away.

The title of king of East Coast hip-hop.

Wealth and fame.

The profession of rapper.

His skin color.

The identity of Cold Brown.

Stripping it all away—

Returning to his true self: Phineas Jessup.

He gestured.

“So...”

“I...”

As the intense rap peaked, it dropped suddenly like a roller coaster—

Leading into the chorus.

Wooju, in his black hoodie, began to sing in his clear voice.

I think I finally know the answer

The one I’ve been searching for

You know it too

The lyrics never explicitly stated the answer.

As the audience thought of their own values—happiness, love—

Wooju lowered the mic after the chorus.

‘That vocal technique is insane. He should be in classical music.’

‘...How did they even write this song?’

‘They don’t even need stage effects. They are the stage.’

Each person focused on something different.

As Wooju’s voice filled the hall—

The jazz quartet continued the melody of Answer.

A sound both classical and modern.

Under simple lighting, the two performers moved with the rhythm.

‘This is insane...’

Though only two stood on stage—

They filled the entire space.

Cold Brown stepped slightly back.

As the second verse began—

Wooju stepped forward.

‘Huh?’

With a small smile, he began rapping.

Singing rap.

I think about the same things every day

Even when I’m asleep

Even when I toss and turn all night

Even when I whisper like a friend

Talking to my insomnia

He spoke of searching for answers.

Though it was singing rap, the rhymes flowed cleanly—

Almost like poetry.

His low tone made it feel different from usual.

Meanwhile—

Unlike Cold Brown, who stripped things away—

Wooju began layering things on.

Someone’s son

Someone’s grandson

Someone’s friend

Someone’s brother

Without people to protect me

Can I really become stronger?

He spoke of wanting to become stronger.

The audience nodded.

Everyone had thought about this before.

To survive in society, you had to be strong—

But effort alone didn’t make you strong.

They say wounds make you grow, but...

Our flesh still bleeds

Until we step into the Styx

The river from Greek mythology that grants invincibility—

But humans cannot reach it until death.

So humans can never truly become unbreakable.

“So...”

“I...”

As if reaching an answer—

Though he never said it outright—

The audience understood.

You don’t have to be strong.

Because there are people who will protect you.

Accepting weakness.

Finding solidarity with others.

Then Cold Brown raised his mic.

I think I finally know the answer

The one I’ve been searching for

You know it too

His voice carried an R&B tone.

The audience gasped.

In the first verse, Cold rapped and Wooju sang—

Now it was reversed.

‘This is insane.’

A rapper with top-tier vocals.

A vocalist who could rap at the highest level.

Two top-tier artists moving perfectly in sync.

Then the third verse began.

‘The structure is unique.’

Longer than the second verse.

Cold Brown returned to rap—

Bringing both their themes together.

Different struggles—

But the same question:

How do we become better?

So at the end, Cold Brown said—

Tomorrow morning, I’ll ask again

Can I become better?

And the answer—

Wooju smiled as he continued.

You already know the answer

Don’t you?

Returning to the opening quote.

A perfect circular structure.

With their smiles—

The jazz quartet finished.

The stage ended.

“WAAAAAAAH!”

Thunderous applause.

Thump. Thump.

Hearing my heartbeat, I lowered the mic.

“WAAAAAAAH!”

The audience roared.

It would’ve happened no matter what—

But this was the sound of a truly great performance.

“Phew.”

Cold Brown wiped sweat.

I wiped my neck, smiling.

He held out his fist.

“Not bad.”

“Pretty good.”

Still smiling at the audience, he whispered, voice trembling.

“I was scared when I dissed the Grammys. What if those bastards get pissed and don’t give us an award?”

“It’ll be fine, Cold.”

“...I hope you’re right.”

I was the one who convinced him.

“You should go with it.”

“No. I’m scared. I need that award.”

“Think about it. If they don’t give it to you now, they’ll look petty. Award shows always want to seem fair.”

“...That’s convincing. Go on.”

From what I’d seen—

American award shows liked to appear fair.

Accuse them of bias—

And suddenly they overcompensate.

So a light jab might even help.

Anyway—

“Hahahahaha!”

“Hahahahaha!”

After showing exaggerated camaraderie—

Chairs were set on stage.

And then—

The MC appeared.

“Ri Hyuk!”

“I love you!”

The cheers were louder than before.

Ri Hyuk spread his arms, enjoying it.

“Hello, everyone.”

Wearing glasses, he sat down.

“I’m Ri Hyuk, today’s special MC.”

“WAAAAAAAH!”

“I know I’m handsome and cute, but today’s stars are these two.”

Laughter.

“That’s some serious self-love, Ri Hyuk.”

“Who do you think I learned from?”

“Jiho.”

Laughter.

“What did you think of the performance?”

“It was amazing. Wooju hyung—ah, don’t cheer.”

The audience cheered louder.

“You’re surprisingly rude to the audience.”

“Ahem.”

He cleared his throat.

“It was an incredible song. Jazz and hip-hop blended perfectly. And...”

“And?”

“Your vocals improved, Wooju... How am I supposed to keep up?”

His eyes grew teary.

Laughter.

“I showed it to the members on video call.”

“Yes.”

“They all left to practice. Junghyun was almost crying.”

Laughter.

Even Cold Brown laughed.

Ri Hyuk lifted his cue card.

“Now for Q&A. First, some prepared questions.”

“Yes.”

“How did this collaboration happen?”

Cold Brown answered.

“I was planning a jazz-hip-hop fusion. While digging through records, I saw the Olympic performance.”

He smiled at Wooju.

“It felt perfect. The theme I wanted was ‘the answer to life.’”

Then—

“Did you write your English lyrics yourself, Wooju?”

“Yes. I did. I thought the rhymes worked... but Cold laughed.”

“Why?”

“He said they were funny.”

Laughter.

“I’ll never forget that face.”

Like an American trying Korean rap awkwardly.

“Cold helped refine it a lot.”

“I did my part.”

Then audience questions began.

More than half raised their hands.

“You, in the white shirt... nice outfit.”

The man’s face darkened.

Laughter.

“Which genre is this?”

“Hmm...”

“Not strictly categorized. If anything, hip-hop—but more about style than genre.”

More questions followed.

“Jazz and hip-hop both started freely, outside rigid systems.”

“That’s right,” Cold added.

“They also share fashion sense.”

“So it’s a genre for fashion icons like us, Cold.”

“...Right.”

Boos.

“I’m a luxury brand ambassador...”

Apparently pioneers aren’t appreciated.

“Next question—ah!”

“Any questions for the musicians?”

Hands rose—

Then dropped instantly.

“They’re your seniors.”

Laughter.

Professors began asking.

Sharp critiques.

Detailed analysis.

‘We’re being recognized.’

“More. Give us more.”

Finally—

“Your insight is incredible. We’d love to recruit you to Lemon Entertainment.”

All professors lowered their hands.

Cold Brown nodded.

“I think I understand Sunny’s image in Korea.”

Laughter.

As the Q&A ended—

“That’s strange.”

Ri Hyuk muttered.

“What?”

“They should be here by now... never mind.”

“Huh?”

At the same time—

Backstage.

Three handsome figures moved stealthily.

“Almost 2 PM,” Jiho whispered.

“Confirmed.”

They prepared a cake.

A surprise for Wooju.

[ Congratulations on □ Place ]

They stared at number candles.

“Hmm...”

“All ones.”

“No twos prepared.”

Staff laughed.

Finally, Biju chose one.

“Junghyun, use this.”

“Okay.”

“Make it nice.”

Junghyun carefully placed it.

Perfect angle.

Satisfied—

He threw something into the trash.

“...Good jo—”

They froze.

“...Huh?”

“...Wait.”

The three looked at each other.