Overseas expansion was a big deal—not just for the idols themselves but for their fandoms too. The Hallyu Wave, which began in the 1990s, had taken Asia by storm in the 2000s thanks to the export of K-dramas. It was spreading deep into the Western world, showcasing the reach and power of Korean culture. “Do you know... kimchi?” “Do you know... Black Call?” Sure, there were people saying the “national pride” hype was going too far, but honestly? That didn’t really matter for The Dawn. Now’s the time to keep our heads down. A group that was just starting to gain some traction in Korea, with the faintest ripples beginning to reach overseas. If they were like Black Call, already at the top or steadily building fame nearby, then sure—they could revel in overseas attention. But The Dawn wasn’t there yet. The Dawn hyping up “K-pride”? That’s laughable—way too early for that. Plus, once you got associated with that kind of hype, you became an easy target for other fandoms. If Black Call was mentioned in a headline about “K-pride,” no one would bat an eye. But if it was The Dawn? People would be like, “Who the hell is that?” or start whining about manufactured clout. They’d call it a delusion of grandeur. And right now, the fandom was already at max fatigue from Hi-Five’s pressure and anxiety about a possible overseas tour. Rising popularity always came with aggro, but there was no reason to give anyone extra ammunition. The Noeuls... their instincts are scary sharp. They’d sniffed out the possibility of a tour instantly. Truth was, Daepaseong had already begun planning a full-scale overseas tour off the back of this concert. The agency probably saw it as perfect timing, a natural next step. But there was no way Korean fans—especially the Noeuls who’d stuck with them since the one-digit days and weathered every storm—wouldn’t catch on. That’s why they had to be careful. Let the fans feel proud about their success overseas—just don’t flaunt it. With that thought, I stood up mid-flight, once the plane had taken off. The way the documentary was shaping up, it looked like they were gonna focus on the Hallyu wave in Europe. We had to tread carefully. I scanned the members, looking for the one most likely to fuck this up. “Kim Sunghyun, switch seats with me.” No questions asked, Sunghyun moved. As soon as I sat down in his seat, I leaned over to the person beside me. “Uwaah! You scared me! Why are you here, hyung?” He’d already reclined his seat and had earbuds in. His eyes widened. “Switched seats because I missed you.” “Why do you talk like that?!” I was going to run a test with the most unstable one first. I snatched the travel guide from his hands—‘Fall in Love with Europe’—and lowered my voice. “The doc crew comes to you and asks: ‘The local reaction has been very enthusiastic—how do you feel about that?’” “What are you talking about?” “Quick. If you had to describe your feelings in one sentence?” Dajun tilted his head, thinking for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth. “Do you know... The Dawn?” “The second you say that, prepare to go a full month without talking to me.” I ignored the stunned expression and scanned the surroundings. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ noⅴelfire.net Luckily, no one was paying attention. “A YouTube video gets uploaded: ‘Why foreigners fainted when Korean idols grabbed the mic.’ Why’d they faint?” “......Because they witnessed the power of K-pop?” “Wrong. It’s just a clickbait thumbnail.” Another hit. He looked devastated. Still, he was smarter now than before. He seemed to be catching on to what I was doing. To test my smarter-than-before maknae, I gave him one last question. “Final one. A foreigner suddenly shows up and introduces themselves as a Noeul. Says they flew all the way to Germany just to see us. What do you say?” “Totally moved!! ...Can’t I say that?” Okay, maybe not as smart as I thought. Clicking my tongue, I pinched his chubby cheek. “Of course it’s fine. But answer with deep sincerity. Say how extremely thankful we are to every Noeul.” Realizing he’d walked into a trap, Dajun looked at me with betrayal in his eyes. I ignored him and pulled the blanket up over him. Still, it was a huge improvement over the “Do you know~” line from earlier. There was plenty of time left before we reached Berlin. More than enough to drill the dos and don’ts into Dajun. “I’ll do better, hyung!” But there was one thing I hadn’t told him. No matter what you do, if someone’s made up their mind, they’ll twist even your breathing into content. No matter how careful The Dawn was, videos like “Foreign fan cries at heartfelt message from Korean idol” or “Real face of an idol overdosed on K-pride” would be all over YouTube just because we showed up. “Jung Dajun-ssi! The local response has been incredible—how do you feel?” “Dajun-ssi, what did you think when you saw the concert poster?” “What’s it like singing in Korean on a foreign stage?” The documentary team stuck to us like glue, full of journalistic zeal. I respected their craft—but we had to survive this too. “Ah! I’ll work really hard!” “Yes, it made me want to work even harder on our performance!” “I’ll burn my body to give it my all!” It looked like a bunch of varied responses, but Dajun was basically parroting the same thing over and over: I’ll do my best. And in doing so, dodged every landmine. If Bangbang got this far, he’s doing well. Kang Ichae was keeping a straight face, but you could tell he couldn’t care less about the doc. He just quietly went around teasing the other members. Sung Jiwon—well, his long trainee years weren’t for nothing. And Kim Sunghyun, ever the observant leader, clearly understood what I was trying to avoid and played along smoothly. “Sss, interviewing The Dawn is harder than I expected.” “Doesn’t look like we’ll get the shots we wanted.” The second they realized they weren’t going to get their golden footage from us, the doc crew ditched us for another group without hesitation. As long as it wasn’t us, what did it matter? I silently cheered for their next target as I stepped onto the stage. The venue was bigger than I expected. Seeing it filled to the brim had my back going stiff with nerves for the first time in a while. ♪ If you hate it, I’ll stop But if I try to quit, you stand in my way ♪ The Dawn performed “Falling Down,” “Kismet,” “Ocean Train,” and “Stardust”—four songs in a twenty-minute set. And through it all, the foreign audience sang along to our Korean lyrics. ♪ So this won’t be the end for us ♪ Yeah... I get why the doc team was chasing that K-pride angle. Even after we left the stage, the heat of the crowd didn’t die down. “Hey, Hi-Five’s set is starting.” Kang Yeonhoo’s smiling face filled the monitoring screen at center stage. The more I watched the performance, the more surprised I felt. Did he practice like hell? Longtime trainees usually got complacent, but every time I saw Yeonhoo, his skill level had visibly improved. Though... he still had moments where he came off a little desperate. Maybe it was a WH trait? Sung Jiwon, who never missed a single idol performance, didn’t take his eyes off the stage today either. Like he didn’t want to miss even a single second, he watched all the way through Hi-Five’s performance and until Ria Purple finished. And then, excitedly turned to me. “Hoyun-ah, wanna go back to the dorm and practice more??” “...You’ve been so cold to me lately.” Jiwon pouted like he was hurt, but I knew by now that nothing got to him that easily, so I ignored it. Sure enough, realizing it didn’t work, he gave me a bright smile and wandered off to find his next practice victim. Terrifying bastard... Phase One—Avoiding a Lethal Dose of K-pride—was only truly complete with the right ending. Once the concert was over, the venue reserved an entire restaurant for the afterparty. I scanned the crowd like a hawk for my next target. “Oh, uh... Seo Hoyun-ssi.” I figured I should at least show my face in the documentary. That’s when I spotted PD Choi in an alley near the restaurant. I approached him with a warm smile, and the main doc PD looked a bit sour. Guess he was disappointed they couldn’t squeeze any usable footage out of us. “You’ve worked so hard. Must’ve been rough coming all the way overseas.” “Ah, it’s no big deal. I just wish we got a better interview with The Dawn.” “That’s a shame. But you filmed it beautifully. Must be because you have experience overseas.” PD Choi looked confused. “I saw your Germany pilgrimage documentary from two years ago.” “What? You watched that??” The cigarette in his hand dropped to the ground. “What do you mean? It was that project that won you the directing award later, right? All thanks to the techniques you experimented with in that doc. I seriously respect you, PD-nim. I loved it.” People always end up rambling about the stuff they love without being asked. PD Choi was the same type as Lee Jihyun. Just a few nods from me, and he spent over thirty minutes excitedly explaining the filming techniques and artistic vision behind his projects. “Ahh, you’re into directing too! You get it! You’re a great conversationalist! Even during dry rehearsals, you were going all out. A model idol, really~!” “Aw, you filmed that too?” “Not just filmed it—that scene’s a highlight. I’ll make it look amazing in the edit.” Now fully pleased, PD Choi gave me a big thumbs-up and hummed a tune as he headed back into the venue. That was a pretty satisfying wrap-up. Still grinning, I stepped out of the alley to head back— “Slippery bastard...” Kang Yeonhoo was crouched at the corner, shaking his head. “Come on, sunbae. We were looking all over for you.” “Cameras aren’t rolling, junior.” Having experienced my true nature firsthand, he batted away my business-mode pleasantries. “I’m honestly impressed. Did you memorize a script or something? How do you talk like that? Your shamelessness stuns me every time.” “I’m amazed too. How does someone who knows keep falling for it?” I tried to walk past him, but noticed the empty beer cans lined up beside him. I couldn’t help but comment on the pitiful sight. “Why are you drinking out here like some moody loner?” “Even if the cameras are off, could you maybe say things a little nicer?” He tried to play it off like he was just soaking in the European atmosphere or whatever—but then asked: “How’d you do it? Your stage was on another level.” Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? “Well, the kids worked hard...” “No, I mean you, Seo Hoyun. You were incredible.” Me, the one who can’t dance? I raised an eyebrow. Yeonhoo clicked his tongue. “Your skills have definitely improved since Shining Star, but more than that—you’ve got this pull now. I get why Woosung sunbae praised you.” “...Not calling him sunbae?” That guy’s whole thing is yelling at me about how if I’m gonna dance like that, why even be an idol. He’s said “Hoyun-ah, do you even want to be a singer?” so many times it echoes in my fucking dreams. Wait... was that bastard talking me up behind my back? I waited expectantly, feeling a tiny bit proud. “Yeah. He praised you.” Yeonhoo looked up at me and said: “He said you’re the kind of guy who gets by on face and guts.” Then he casually ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ sipped his beer. That’s your idea of praise, you bastard?