Chapter 33 …
The morning before the flight to New York, I found myself standing absentmindedly in the underground parking lot of Puremera. Two Mercedes were parked side by side—one the company car, the other mine.
I wasn’t exactly obsessed with cars. It was just that seeing this kind of scene exist in my life suddenly felt surreal.
At that moment, my phone rang.
[Did you get what I sent you?]
It was Jooa calling. I had just opened a package from her earlier: a sleep mask and a travel neck pillow. They were incredibly soft, probably microfiber.
“Ah, thanks. I was actually about to call you.”
[You said it’s your first time in the U.S., right? Be careful. Even though New York is a big city, the security isn’t as good as you’d think.]
Jooa spoke in a tone that sounded like a mother sending her only child off to a retreat. Who would have guessed that Jooa, a top actress often misunderstood as cold and irritable, could speak like this?
“Got it. But… sis, you didn’t have to go through the trouble of sending these. If it’s because of what happened back then—”
[You don’t like it?]
“Huh?”
[Does me sending these and calling you feel like I’m trying to get close to you, like Shin Sora does?]
Her voice sounded oddly deflated.
“No. Absolutely not.”
[Really? That’s a relief.]
Jooa laughed.
[Have a safe trip. And remember, I have a shoot when you get back, so take good care of me.]
Then she hung up.
‘Of course it’s different from Shin Sora.’
I couldn’t dislike being cared for by a top actress. But, you know how it feels when something like that makes you uneasy? Like you’re getting something too much for nothing. Like booking a motel but suddenly ending up in a five-star suite.
‘In the end, all I did was share a couple of cheap rice balls ten years ago… Is it really okay to be cared for like this over that?’
The dorm was tense. In one corner, the travel suitcases were neatly lined up.
“Did you pack everything?”
Manager Park Hyung-sik asked, and the members nodded.
“Team leader… the kids can’t seem to relax. They were fine during practice, though.”
“Guess they feel anxious if they don’t practice.”
Practice was forbidden today. Their flight was at 8 p.m., so maintaining condition was essential. Yet, no one could stay still. Dabin held her neck while moving her lips, Nari followed the rhythm with her hands, and Ha-young and Mina swayed, as if visualizing the choreography in their minds.
Their hearts were already in New York. It was a global event, after all, so nerves were expected. But…
‘Something feels off.’
A subtle dissonance tickled my senses. Normally, the dorm had a gentle, pleasant smell from onion bracelets. The smell was there now, but there was an odd humidity to it.
“By the way, Valhalla’s pushing it, huh? Holding a guerrilla event exactly when our kids are flying out? Even if it’s a competitor, isn’t that overkill? They’ve finally gotten this far…”
I noticed the members flinch. A strange sensation washed over me. It might sound crazy, but it felt as if Onion’s emotions were flowing into me.
The old man’s words came to mind:
Usually, it rots or withers quickly.
Do you know what kind of fortune grows on what?
I didn’t know the exact answer, but I had an idea of what was close and what was far.
Gradually, the subtle twist I felt became more concrete in my mind.
‘I need to say something.’
Even Onion seemed to want it. I didn’t know how I knew that, but that was the feeling.
I approached the members and said,
“Are you thinking about Nobel Biz right now?”
They flinched again and looked up at me.
“…Yes.”
Mina answered.
“Why?”
“Well… we keep telling ourselves not to, not to,” Mina said, her voice trembling.
“The seniors at Nobel Biz pull off these massive guerrilla concerts, the media goes wild… and we get overshadowed… this scenario keeps playing in my head. I know it’s unrealistic, but I can’t shake it off.”
Then Nari added,
“Sometimes we joke among ourselves that since we got lucky, maybe we’ll fall into equally ridiculous misfortune…”
It was a reasonable thought. After only two months out of obscurity, they were going to a UN event. Who wouldn’t be nervous?
It was a reasonable thought, but one that needed to be discarded.
I said,
“But do you know? Your flight’s at 8 p.m. tonight. I heard 80 fans are coming to see you off.”
“Oh…”
Surprise registered on their faces.
“To avoid overwhelming you, the fan club president capped the number at 80. There were more applicants, but they were chosen by lottery.”
“…….”
The initial surprise shifted into embarrassment and regret. They already seemed to know what I was going to say next. Still, I continued.
“Imagine you’re the owner of a burger shop. Who should you prioritize? The neighboring burger shop owner? Or the customers coming to eat your burgers?”
Silence. Soon, Dabin answered,
“The customers.”
The moment she said that, the room’s atmosphere changed. The strange humidity vanished, leaving a crisp freshness. The dorm filled with the scent of mint.
“…We’ve gotten arrogant. We should have focused on how to thank the people who came to see us. Instead, we put it on the back burner.”
“We’re awful right now.”
“So embarrassing.”
“Yeah, why were we trying to compete with Nobel Biz? We should just appreciate those who love us.”
Their expressions changed. All tension evaporated. One by one, they started speaking with bashful, apologetic smiles.
“How’s the weather tonight? It’s March, but 7°C. Should we order hand warmers?”
“8 p.m… Will everyone have eaten dinner by then? Should we call a food truck?”
“Let’s order lunch boxes! The chicken lunch boxes from Saerom are amazing. There are 80 people, so we should order now!”
“Isn’t pork better than chicken?”
They hurriedly ordered hand warmers and snacks for the fans. Even after that, they discussed what else they could do to support their fans. Then, the four flowers on the Onion ring emitted a strong fragrance.
The scent felt refreshing, even invigorating. My body seemed lighter.
“…It’s my fault.”
Hyung-sik spoke quietly, so the members couldn’t hear.
“What do you mean?”
“I brought up Nobel Biz a couple of times. That seems to have made the members nervous. I should have been more careful, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“You must have been nervous and worried too, manager?”
“Yes… but…”
Hyung-sik, usually imposing, looked completely deflated. Head down, he continued,
“Listening to your words, team leader, it felt like the fog in my mind cleared. I wondered what I was even thinking. I’ve been a manager for years, yet I still confused myself.”
He clenched his fists and spoke solemnly.
“If only I could have said what you just said, team leader. I’ll remember it forever.”
I awkwardly changed the subject.
“Good… But aren’t you thirsty? Want me to get you something to drink?”
“I’ll go get it!”
He asked the members what they wanted, then dashed to a nearby café.
‘Lately, this keeps happening.’
Lee Jong-muk, Jang Hyung-geon, Park Hyung-sik.
People older than me, acting as if they don’t realize I’m 27.
‘Am I… looking that old?’
I slipped into the restroom to check the mirror secretly.
Kim Jung-soo, 29, had recently started at a major IT company as a data analyst. Though his job hunt lasted slightly longer than most, he had survived to this point. Today, however, he boldly took a half-day off, watching his manager’s mood carefully.
He couldn’t help it—today was Nobel Biz’s guerrilla concert! He had wrapped up work early and headed straight to Hongdae to secure the best spot. Three hours of waiting was nothing.
Even arriving early, he didn’t get the first-row ticket. Naturally—this was Nobel Biz.
“Even with a paid reservation, having to claim seats first-come-first-served? That’s harsh.”
“Looks like they’ll use footage of early birds for an article.”
Online criticism circulated. Valhalla had its quirks, but Nobel Biz wasn’t at fault.
“Two, three! Hello, we’re Nobel Biz!”
Leader Eun-ji smiled brightly. During his job search, Jung-soo had been saved countless times by that smile.
“Don’t be sad, don’t worry. Even when life’s hard, we’re with you.”
Their song With Us was Jung-soo’s favorite. Seeing these fairy-like members cheer for the audience’s lives was mesmerizing. The lyrics even resonated with job seekers.
‘On the day I failed my second interview, I listened to this song for five hours straight.’
The song’s impact wasn’t just the lyrics. The choreography was notoriously intense. Eun-ji had joked it was like a fitness test—everyone was exhausted afterward.
It wasn’t flashy outwardly, but the routine was full of waves, up-and-down movements, and frequent position changes. Mistakes meant accidents, so all members had to focus intensely.
Watching that, Jung-soo often thought, ‘Am I working as hard as they are?’ He had gritted his teeth and succeeded in getting a job, yet…
‘Huh?’
Something felt off.
He knew the choreography by heart but the positions weren’t changing when they should. Movements were simplified, hands waved lightly, and the expected routine never appeared. Eun-ji calmly introduced the next song.
‘Did they simplify for a guerrilla concert? Hmm… that’s possible.’
A sudden schedule could explain it. But it didn’t feel right.
‘True fans will notice the simplified choreography. They came to see the full routine. Did it really need to be cut? I waited three hours after taking a half-day…’
The performance wasn’t long, but Jung-soo still had hope—there was a fan event afterward.
He queued to speak with the members directly.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I had a long job hunt… listening to Nobel Biz gave me strength. Escaping unemployment was all thanks to you.”
“Wow, really? Thank you. It’s an honor.”
“Really… thank you. Thinking back on those hard times…”
“Thank you for supporting Nobel Biz. Love you! Please continue to support us!”
Jung-soo felt uneasy.
Something was off. Though he spoke and heard their words, it felt like his feelings hadn’t been conveyed. There was a giant wall between him and Nobel Biz.
Finally, someone gestured for the next person. Eun-ji still replied,
“Yes, really?”
People began murmuring as Nova Girls and their manager approached. Journalists snapped photos.
Seeing them, Min-ji felt intimidated.
‘They’re from another world.’
Huh Min-ji, 20, a retaking student.
Coming to the airport for idols? Crazy. But Min-ji had summoned the courage. From the day after last year’s CSAT until now, she hadn’t taken a break from studying.
Even on TV, they seemed beautiful—but seeing them in person was on another level.
‘How is their face so small? Are they even Korean? How is every feature so perfectly in place?’
Long, slender limbs, nearly nine-heads-tall proportions, Barbie-doll faces.
Min-ji started regretting volunteering. At 159 cm, average-looking, hoodie and sweatpants, retaking student tag—she felt ordinary.
‘Even if they can’t study, they’ll have an easy life. They’re that pretty.’
The Nova Girls approached and bowed deeply.
“Thank you all for coming out in the cold.”
“Thank you for loving and supporting us.”
“We’ll do our best.”
“Love you all. Only good things will happen to you.”
‘…Huh.’
This wasn’t what Min-ji imagined. She pictured idols strutting confidently like models. But these girls repeatedly bowed 90 degrees. They didn’t flaunt themselves.
Their manager started taking items from a box and handing them to fans.
“What’s this?” Min-ji asked.
“Lunch boxes and hand warmers.”
“From JM?”
“No, the Nova Girls bought them themselves.”
“Oh… really?”
Had idol farewells always been like this? No wonder everyone wanted to come.
Nearby, fans discussed:
“All the hand warmers have their autographs? All four members?”
“Wow… it’s really handwritten. Look, mine and Seung-joo’s are slightly different.”
“When did they have time to prepare 80 of these?”
“Even the lunch boxes… Nova Girls are different.”
Min-ji realized other idols didn’t do this.
Opening her lunch box, she found spicy pork and chicken karaage. She usually ate simple cup meals—this generous box thrilled her.
‘Wow… this is really good.’
The members made eye contact with each fan, responding warmly.
“Nari, you’re so cute!”
“Ah, don’t tease me!”
“Dabin, your outfit’s gorgeous today!”
“Really? I wasn’t sure, but glad I chose it.”
They answered each fan’s words. Min-ji finally understood why they came early.
‘Being pretty makes life easier’—that thought vanished from her mind.
“Here, take this. Lip balm. It’s dry, so be careful.”
Seeing a fan give a gift, Min-ji gained courage. She approached Mina, the youngest.
“Here… please read this later.”
She handed a handwritten letter. Feeling embarrassed, she wondered if it was a nuisance—celebrities probably get tons of fan letters.
Mina’s eyes lit up.
“Thanks. But do I have to read it later? Can’t I read it now? We still have time, hehe.”
“Uh… sure.”
Mina opened the letter and blushed. Would she even relate to it?
The letter read:
[Hello, Mina. I became your fan after watching your performance at 3Hoobi. This is my first time being an idol fan.
I was always first in school, but I failed last year’s CSAT. I don’t know why—maybe I was too nervous and made stupid mistakes. I sat at my desk to study again but kept thinking I’d rather die than face the shame.
Then I saw you fall on stage and rise with a smile. I thought your heart must have been just like mine. Dancing with a smile, even when you didn’t feel like it, was amazing.
So I decided, even though I want to collapse and cry, I’ll get up and study. Thank you for giving me strength. I wish you only good things.]
Heo Min-ji
Min-ji couldn’t look at Mina. ‘Her heart must have been the same as mine?’ What nonsense? Mina is amazing; I’m… not.
Then…
“…Thank you.”
Mina said, tears streaming.
“Thank you for saying I’m amazing. You’re amazing too, Min-ji. Truly amazing.”
She hugged Min-ji, radiating warmth and a pleasant scent.
‘What is this?’
Min-ji hesitated giving the letter. After all, idol images are curated by the agency—real personalities are unknown. Even if she painstakingly wrote a letter, would it just be dismissed behind her back?
But…
‘She’s really a good person.’
