Chapter 927: We are, well... uh... henchmen. (17)

A party filled with globally renowned figures.

[TIME 100 GALA]

The atmosphere in the hall had fully ripened.

Alan Dale, the famous talk show host and MC for the night, raised the microphone.

"Is everyone enjoying the evening?"

"Yes!"

"Now, it’s time to introduce tonight’s music! A party like this wouldn’t be complete without it."

He smiled.

"There are two guest performers tonight."

"Woooooo!"

"You all know who they are, right?"

The attendees nodded.

Alan Dale smiled.

"One of them is a legend of hip hop we’re proud of. Billboard once described him like this: ‘He is the music industry.’ A true superstar representing the industry."

At the mention of Cold Brown, applause and cheers erupted.

"Not only is he a superstar, but he’s also made an incredible impact through charity. Countless homeless individuals have been given a second chance through his support, and when hurricanes struck the southern regions, he personally took part in relief efforts."

The cheers grew even louder.

As the applause continued, the host smoothly transitioned.

"And now, it’s time to introduce the other performer."

He paused.

At the puzzled looks, he gave an embarrassed smile.

"Ah, when I introduce these guys, the fans usually scream so loudly that I’ve gotten into the habit of pausing like this."

The celebrities laughed in agreement.

Alan Dale continued.

"Some of you may not know them very well. Even though they’ve been around for a while, in the U.S. they’re still like rising stars. Unless you’re younger, you might not be familiar."

Indeed, older CEOs and politicians seemed to vaguely recognize the name at best.

The host chuckled.

"So for those of you who aren’t familiar, I’d like to take a moment to introduce them properly. They are rising global pop stars with tens of millions of multinational fans. Wherever they go, they’re followed by crowds like clouds."

He pointed toward the window.

"Those are their fans outside."

People turned toward the massive glass windows.

Around Central Park and 59th Street, crowds large enough to require police presence were chanting for NewBlack.

Even just to catch a glimpse of their silhouettes.

"Wow..."

"Did you see that?"

"So it wasn’t a protest."

"Well, if anyone here disrespects NewBlack, it’ll turn into one."

Laughter spread.

Alan Dale clapped his hands.

"The media focuses on how many fans they have. Album sales, concert attendance... blah blah blah. But they rarely ask why they have so many fans."

He read aloud.

"These are things their fans have written on Twitter."

-Whenever I feel down, listening to their music makes me feel better. They’re like sunshine in my life.

-They’re my comfort and my joy.

-It’s wonderful to have people you like. But what’s truly happy is that the people you like are such good people.

Alan Dale said,

"The reason they have so many fans is because they give that much happiness. These kinds of voices are being heard all around the world."

"Wow..."

"And even before gaining attention in the U.S., they were already loved across Asia."

Perhaps because of the host’s eloquence, it felt as if the image of fans across the world flickered through the air.

"One thing is certain. Whether people acknowledge it or not, they are already among the 100 most important people in the world."

With an elegant gesture, he concluded.

"Now, let me introduce tonight’s performers. Cold Brown!"

"Wooooooo!"

"And NewBlack!"

At last, the performers entered.

The dazzling introduction had completely captivated the audience.

"Thanks for the great introduction, Alan."

"My pleasure."

Cold Brown shook hands.

Then Wooju stepped forward and extended his hand.

"Thank you, Alan."

"If you’re grateful, then when your next album comes out, you’ll come on my show first. Deal?"

"Yes."

At the shy reply, Alan Dale turned to the audience.

"You all heard that, right? NewBlack’s next album promotion starts with The Alan Dale Show!"

Laughter erupted.

With a sly smile, the host stepped down, having secured what he wanted.

The two artists stood before the microphones.

Wooju fanned himself.

Cold Brown glanced over.

"You good, Sunny?"

"It’s a little warm."

Wooju smiled.

"You praised me so much it’s embarrassing. I’m surprisingly weak to compliments."

"Handsome!"

"Cute!"

From nearby, the members and attendees shouted.

Wooju narrowed his eyes.

"Nice try, but being called handsome isn’t enough to embarrass me. It’s just a fact, isn’t it?"

The shamelessly accurate remark drew laughter.

A cheerful atmosphere.

Cold Brown took the mic first.

"First, I’d like to thank everyone who invited us here. And..."

As he began an impromptu speech to build the mood, Wooju sat at the grand piano, gently laying down background music.

The rapper continued.

"It all started with a question from a great man. A message left behind by a musician who passed away 20 years ago."

-Has the world gotten better?

"In some ways, you could say yes. But in many ways, the answer is still no. Anyway, a son responded to his father’s question."

Wooju smiled softly as he played.

The accompaniment of Answer flowed—written as a response to Question.

"Maybe it’s because they’re geniuses, but it was a little hard for me to keep up. I mean, have you ever seen a family like this? A father asking, ‘Son, is the world getting better?’ and a son answering through music."

Laughter rippled through the room.

Cold Brown smiled.

"Listening to this exchange made me realize something. That question isn’t directed at the world—it’s directed at us. We think of the world as something separate, but it’s something we all create together."

Heads nodded.

"So in more precise terms, the question is this: ‘Are you better than people were 20 years ago?’"

He scanned the audience.

"The Answer you’re about to hear begins from that point."

-Am I better than I was yesterday?

The question hung in the air.

As the audience immersed themselves in the storytelling—

The piano stopped.

Wooju stood.

All eyes followed him.

Perhaps it was Alan Dale’s introduction.

Or the knowledge that he had inherited the talent of a legendary jazz musician.

Even the smallest movement felt extraordinary.

Cold Brown had introduced it grandly, but—

"Answer wasn’t composed with such a grand message in mind."

Wooju smiled.

"It’s just a song a son wrote to tell his father he’s doing well."

His expression softened at the thought of his father.

Smiles spread among the audience.

"In that sense, the hip hop version of Answer carries a similar meaning. Today’s self responding to yesterday’s self."

He looked at the crowd.

"That introduction was a bit long, wasn’t it?"

"No!"

"Are you ready to enjoy the stage?"

"Yes!"

"Absolutely!"

The engineer prepared the track.

Wooju gripped the mic.

"Before we start, we’d like to try something fun. During rehearsal, we noticed the drums sounded a bit weak."

"Very weak."

"We could just turn them up... but we had a better idea."

Wooju grinned.

"You’ll be today’s drums."

Laughter.

"We’re serious."

"If your hands are free, clap. If you’re holding something, stomp your feet."

They demonstrated the rhythm.

Simple.

Engaging.

The audience joined in.

Cold Brown smirked.

"The rhythm might change midway."

Wooju continued.

"But you’ll follow it before you know it."

"Shall we begin?"

The lights dimmed.

Jazz piano blended into the air.

Cold Brown began.

Marcus said,

Waste no more time what a good man should be.

Wooju answered.

Be one.

The audience nodded.

Claps and stomps merged into a living drumbeat.

The song began.

The first verse—Cold Brown’s rap, Wooju’s vocals.

The second—Wooju’s rap, Cold Brown’s vocals.

I think I finally know the answer

The one I was searching for

You know it too

The rhythm shifted—faster, slower—

But they followed.

As if entranced.

Wooju guided them like a conductor.

Playful smiles, soaring high notes, seamless transitions into rap.

Even a hint of dance.

"Wow..."

A message suited to the audience.

A participatory performance.

Perfect synergy.

‘I didn’t expect much, but this...’

‘This is insane.’

‘The camera can’t capture this.’

Phones rose everywhere.

As Answer filled the room, everyone wore dazed expressions.

‘It’s too good to keep to ourselves.’

And so, countless clips began flooding social media.

While the Americans watched in a trance—

Backstage, the members watched too.

"Woaaah..."

"Heeey..."

Biju grinned, filming.

‘This is amazing.’

Watching their favorite from the front row.

-Shouldn’t you just watch with your eyes?

Their eldest didn’t understand.

‘This stage is incredible.’

The mood.

The crowd.

Their leader shining.

Smiles spread.

Ri Hyuk said,

"Is it just me... or does it feel really good when he does something cool?"

"I feel great, not just ‘kind of.’ Man, our leader’s amazing. Bringing in money."

"It’s like a diamond exhibition."

They all agreed.

-That’s ours!

They grinned.

‘Leader farming: total success.’

‘Our composer Dobby.’

‘The most annoying opponent is now on our side...!’

Then—

Junghyun blinked.

"Hey..."

"Yeah?"

"Doesn’t Wooju feel different today?"

"Yeah..."

Even Junghyun noticed.

Normally—

‘I’ll perform like I’m carving my bones.’

Today—

‘I’ll perform like this is my last stage.’

Something was burning brighter.

"What is it?"

"No idea."

They tilted their heads.

"WOOOOOOO!"

The response to Answer was explosive.

Cheers. Applause.

"Thank you."

"Thank you!"

After bowing, Wooju bumped fists with Cold Brown.

Their eyes gleamed.

‘One step closer to a Grammy.’

‘Hold #1 on the Billboard Hot 100.’

"See you later, Cold."

"Go rest. I’ll keep the stage warm."

As Cold Brown’s solo began, Wooju stepped offstage.

The members greeted him.

"Hyung, that was amazing."

"I did well, right?"

They nodded.

As he danced playfully at their praise—

Ri Hyuk asked,

"By the way..."

"Yeah?"

"Today’s stage felt different."

"You noticed?"

"Only we could tell."

"That’s good."

Wooju leaned in.

"It’s because of Billboard."

They nodded.

"It’s been almost two months at #1. I thought it was okay to drop to #2 once."

"Right."

"But the song that would take #1 is..."

He whispered the name.

Their expressions changed.

"..."

"..."

Eyes ignited.

"Hyung."

"Y-Yeah?"

"...We’re giving the best performance today."

"O-Okay."

And they did.

In a spacious hotel—

Moonlight sat together.

Practicing talk show lines.

"Josh! I hear something interesting happened to you!"

"Yes, I have a dog at home—"

They rehearsed stories.

Expressions.

Strategies.

"That story was funny?"

"Not at all."

They laughed.

They were preparing for success.

-You might hit #1!

Because Answer had started to slow.

Unlike their steadily promoted track.

‘Just a little longer.’

‘#1.’

Then—

"Uh..."

Patrick looked at his tablet.

"Guys?"

"What?"

"Look at this."

[Cold Brown & Wooju - Answer]

A performance video.

At first—

"So?"

Then—

"The views."

"Wait... today?"

"...What?"

The numbers were impossible.

"And Twitter’s exploding. We dropped in trending."

"...From one performance?"

Then—

[Answer Official MV]

More growth.

Still #1.

Rising.

And—

#8. Midnight Sun - The New Black

"...What did they even do at that stage?"

Silence.

They realized.

They weren’t standing on the same level.

The video ended.

Autoplay.

[Welcome. First time with NewBlack?]

Fireworks behind them.

Wooju raising a glass.

[Laughter]

"..."

It felt like mockery.