Spring, spring, spring, / Spring has come
My dear, When I first saw you / I knew right away
My dear, be with me / Before this spring ends

Birds titter, leaves rustle, but the scene is indoors.

Kept entirely in shades of pink and black, it shows a chandelier in an elaborate room. The camera drifts, makes the room grand and beautiful, until it settles on a bright, smiling face.
A cheerful boy lays sprawled on the floor, tapping a little book in rhythm over his heart. On close inspection, the seemingly ornate carpeting is the word carpet written over and over in the relevant layouts; same goes for all the Aether-styled cabinets, curtains, etc. Only the boy and his book are as they actually seem. The guitar has kicked in, and he's singing now, bobbing his head left and right as he sits up from the ground.

The camera pulls back slowly, showing bit by bit of the actually tiny room. Soon, it's revealed not to be a room at all, but a reflection of one in a yellowed bathroom mirror. His clothes are different from what he wore in his reflection. There's the back of his head, and then there's the front, still beaming cheerily.

But he isn't looking at the camera this time. He leans in conspiratorially to a crowd of grotesque newspaper bees. With a twinkle in his eye, he draws a door knob and heart-shaped window on the cover of his book. He opens and closes the cover a few times, showing his odd audience childish sketches of trees and flowers (azaleas, insists a barely legible label) and smiley suns. A derogatory finger points out the state of this jaundiced bathroom, and the paper bees shudder in agreement. Then he throws a wink at the camera as he puts the book back to his heart, tapping as he peels off with the newspaper bees in tow.

The next shot shows Adán's silhouette. It half-dances, half-marches with near-violent cheer, both arms swinging and both legs kicking. Behind him, a parade of paper cut-outs bob in rhythm. The little breath of guitar between lines is dotted with shots of aegyo and a flowery gesture with his hands over one ear.
The whistling kicks the camera back in motion, zooming out once more. The parade narrows to a pink stripe on black wall, for the "real" Adán and his paper followers to stroll past.

The world is back to pink and black, but oppressive coloring aside, Adán is wearing another new outfit and still full of energy. One finger tracing over the pink stripe, he reads the lyrics from his book as he walks. He tests some doors as he goes and keeps his cheerful demeanour when they don't open up. Smiling determinedly, the boy turns a corner and marches on.
The newspaper creatures follow in their various, inhuman forms of locomotion, even more monstrous than the next. Their are noticeably larger than how they started, looming over the boy that once leaned down to show them his book.

The next door opens easily. Adán nearly walks right past, before realizing he'd stumbled upon precisely what this expedition was for. He's not exactly overjoyed, expresses just a satisfied nod and irreverent shoulder-shove to enter the door. He cuts his finger on a page turn as he backs into the new space. The camera seems content to keep zooming out, until suddenly swiping down and to the left.

The camera cuts back to the scene with his silhouette march, but now the color of that is pink. Either Adán is smaller or the bees are bigger; they're starting to dwarf him. Adán only has one arm now, but he still swings it and kicks his legs.

The space between lines this time has him blinking at a dark fluid trailing along the book's edge and down his finger. The blurred room is coming into focus behind him, but he's still fascinated with this liquid, even catching a drop in his other palm.

When the silhouette march continues this time, he has only his legs to kick.

The march warbles out into a band of light reflected on moving water, rippling as Adán's shoes plod through. As the view climbs upwards, we see his hands stained dark as he thumbs through the drawings in the book now, leaving inky finger prints over the drawings. That odd moment with the papercut seems long forgotten as he excitedly glances between the notebook and the room. It looks something similar to the room he started out in, except real—and dismantled, pieces floating disembodied around him.

One by one, the childish pictures match to something in Adán's path, in quick scenes cut with a bit of dancing. The flowers match with obvious fake plants crafted in newspaper; the sun with a massive, skeletal chandelier swinging above him. Doodles of Aether-like castles with furniture store panels of walls in that airy style. The panels spin slowly but never quite show their other sides as Adán bounds forward happily into pitch black. The monster bees crowd in behind him. The water seems to be soaking in and deforming the paper they're made of, yet somehow they're even larger. At their new size, they easily swarm the camera's view until there's nothing but twisted newspaper bouquets.

Adán's feet come to a stop at a small moon-like reflection of a floating square. The square is something of a display stand for this huge pair of scissors, painted in the style of a director's slate. The notebook lands limply in the water as Adán clears his hands and grabs the scissors. One hand in each handle, eyes bright and smile brighter as he brings the blades together claps the slate.

A soft riff drifts to silence, as if cut off by the scissors. His smile frosts over a bit as he puzzles over the silence. He peers this way, then that way, then behind him—

His eyes are open, widening slowly as one massive monster draws close. We only see the shadow slowly enveloping him, surging upward like spikes as his back slams a sudden glass wall. He peeks behind himself, directly at the camera, for a split second before he's forced to turn his attention back to the monster. All the bees seemed to have mashed into one waterlogged mess drawing closer and closer. He blinks as black droplets land on his face and trickle down to stain his clean shirt. His little neck ribbon is all lopsided, his collar askew, his buttons slipping. A trail of clear fluid cuts across the dark splatter on his cheek as he fails to blink away terrified tears.

He glances up in a dark, watery scene, but like in the introduction, our view slowly expands to reveal that what we saw was his reflection. This time, in the teary eyes (bulging camera lens) of our monster, now shrinking back in shame. Adán gets smaller and smaller as the lens-eyes pull away and our own camera matches its pace.
Neither camera gets very far though, before Adán is steeling himself and walking right under the monster's deluge of tears. Even as it soaks into his clothing, Adán is shakily offering a smile and a gentle hand.

The monster stills under his touch, then follows him again as he turns back to the glass wall. His face is shadowed in the glass' reflection as he reaches up, still shaking, and uses the leftover stains on his fingers to draw a door. The same door that he'd drawn on his book cover two minutes and thirty seconds ago.

Back in the world of the silhouette march, a matching door opens from just off-screen and let the familiar troupe bounce in. The monster trail is somewhat mashed together in this hexagonal formation, but Adán remains at the helm. Now more flawless than ever, for he is a paper cut-out too. The flat color scene behind them changes, to feature some flowers and trees and houses just like the drawings in that discarded notebook. More flowers bloom red against the pink background, littering the paper bodies as they pass pretty landmarks.
What little light there was steadily drains out while the singing carries on. By the time Adán's voice fades out, the screen is already black.

Birds titter, leaves rustle, the scene is outdoors.
A sleeping boy lays sprawled on the lush green grass, with a little book tented over his heart. On close inspection, the book's angle and positioning has it appear to be shaped like a heart, even if it's no longer tapping to the beat; same goes for all the small paper bees strewn around him. Only the boy seems to be moving at all, breathing nice and slow.

Blockberry Creative dropped the MV of the third member of their upcoming boygroup today and it's none other than Sun Inyoung. Fans of the child actor would remember that he signed to the company in February 2018, after his old contract ran out. Since then, speculations of him becoming a singer or joining their new boygroup had been persistent, and now those rumors are confirmed: Sun Inyoung will become the third member of NOX and promote under his birth name Adán. He will be in charge of lead vocals, lead rap and visuals.

Sun Inyoung was born as Adán Sun Dimas in Spain in the year 2001. He rose to fame in 2010 with his portrayal of the child version of Kim Minsoo in 'Cricket's Song' and had acted in many franchises alongside famous actors ever since. His skills and total immersion into his roles have earned him the nickname 'Nation's Childhood Friend'.

 

[+1,871, -87] This video is more Blackpink than Blackpink themselves

[+1,755, -136] Our nation's childhood friend has made his debut as a singer. Whether you'll go by Inyoung or Adán, I support you no matter what

[+1,712; -197] The song is good and the flowery pose at the beginning was so cute! I can't wait to see the lives~

[+1,698; -201] He can act, he has visuals, and now he can sing, too! I'm awed that such perfection exists. Inyoung, please rob my wallet

[+1,677; -65] His acting was amazing. To my fellow fans, lets stream the MV and show him that we'll stay by his side even if he becomes an idol. Also, to the author; dedicated fans knew for ages that he would become an idol, get your facts straight.

[+1,634; -273] God Inyoung

[+1,595; -1,287] His voice got weird after he hit puberty. Definitely doesn't match his face and visuals.

[+1,487; -114] Funny, Vana had also closed doors in his MV, but their reactions to them are entirely different

[+1,371; -499] I think becoming an idol member was a mistake of him. What should he do in a group when he could outshine each member with his looks and skills?

                                                                                                                                                       June 9th, 2018

The teahouse Sun Inyoung had suggested for the meet up was on the other end of Seoul, a good half hour ride away from the company headquarters and the dorms. He had chosen thisat spot since it was one of the few tea houses in his area he hadn't been to yet, but soaking in the picturesque interior design and decorations, he had no idea why that was the case.

He breathed in the aromatic scent of fresh tea leaves and thrummed his fingertips against the tabletop in a steady rhythm. The flowers and the art were very pleasing to the eye and he could recognize the portraits of some underrated Korean poets and artists which threw his mind into a tangent of lyricism and writings.
 

"I'm sorry for being late, traffic was a hassle.”

A familiar voice disrupted Inyoung from his thoughts. For a moment he was left confused before giving his head a light shake, banishing the images of spilling moonlight on thatched roofs. Right. Teahouse, manager Jung, catching up. Okay. A small woman in her fifties sat down on the settee opposite of him and made herself comfortable. He the corners of his lips before he greeted her.
 

"Hello manager Jung, it's been a while."
 

"You don't need to call me manager, I'm not in charge of you anymore. Just Miss Jung is sufficient,” she scolded him, but there was no bite in her words, “And congratulations on your debut, Inyoung. Or should I call you Adán now?“
 

"Thank you, and either is fine,“ he replied. After all, he became Adán now, in a way. The name he grew up with wouldn't feel quite as out of place as when he first moved to Seoul.

"Then I'll go with Inyoung. It's more familiar by now."

The waitress came to put down their orders and put down her orders. There was an awkward silence while they waited for their tea before manager Jung cleared and asked him about his new schedule and how his debut preparations were going. He told her has much as he knew. It was strange talking about a schedule that she didn't control anymore. Inyoung let the stream of her words lull him like a summer breeze, his thoughts drifting in and out of the conversation, swept away by the pretty decorations and the scent of fresh tea leaves.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you left because no matter what you say, I'm certain you enjoy singing more than acting, but that woman's attitude is just awful," she ended her speech. Inyoung nodded, knowing that she expected him to give some sort of response, though he didn't really know what to say. What could he even reply to that when he wasn't sure himself? Did he enjoy singing more than acting?
 

"You quite like those flowers, huh?” The topic change was a relief.
 

"Yeah, I think they are pretty. They're stargazer lilies,” he smiled while looking at the bouquet that his eyes had wandered to all afternoon. Those flowers indeed looked pretty next to the white linen of the tablecloth, rosy and delicate and in full bloom. “Their meaning is wealth and prosperity.”
 

"How befitting, since the prices in this tea house certainly require wealth and prosperity,” she scoffed, then changing her tone to a kinder one, “But it seems like that won't be an issue for you anymore. It's been 24 hours since your MV was released and you already surpassed the physical and digital sales of both of the previous members. The public seems to love your song so far, even though Bom Bom Bom might not be the best title for a summer debut.” 

Wait; was it true that he had outsold both of s already? Guilt started gnawing at his insides and he felt his heart drop. It wasn't right. He shouldn't be that successful when he had been the one that deserved it the least. Seyoon had worked for twelve years towards this dream and could sing circles around him. Inyoung could picture his hyung's disappointed expression when he'd realize that his song only stirred up a breeze next to Inyoung's full-blown storm. Or was it his own disappointment? Seyoon would probably smile and call it insignificant, he seemed that kind. But it didn't stop Inyoung from feeling miserable about it, like he slighted his groupmates by hoarding popularity he didn't deserve.

With one instance, Inyoung's mood was ruined. Manager Jung continued chattering but Inyoung barely heard any of it. He pushed the tea away, suddenly he'd lost all taste for it.