In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

We received so many congratulations after getting number one.

Celebrities we ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) know left congratulatory posts on SNS, and messages and calls poured in from acquaintances.

Same at the company.

After returning from the music show, staff who were close to us waited with a cake.

“Congratulations on NewBlack’s number one.”

“Who?”

We all shouted together.

“We are!”

“Puhahat!”

“Ri-hyuk! Ri-hyuk, where are you going! You have to blow the candles!”

Ri-hyuk, pulled back by Jung-hyun, covered his face as if it was torture.

“...Why is everyone doing this to me?”

“Ri-hyuk! Blow them quickly!”

Yet he seemed secretly pleased the manager insisted he blow the candles alone.

He huffed and puffed at the lit candles but his breath was as weak as an old man blowing on a straw.

“Ri-hyuk. You should blow them out in one puff. What if the main vocalist has weak lung capacity?”

“He’s worried I’ll spit on everyone. Ssshh—huh! Huh!”

The flame trembled until Jung-hyun stepped in.

“Let me do it.”

He clapped once and dozens of candles fell like autumn leaves.

We all sobbed and collapsed to the floor.

Amid the joyful atmosphere and shower of congratulations, we expressed our sincere thanks.

As the event wound down, the CEO himself came down to treat us to dinner.

“Hohoho! Aigoo, kids! Great work!”

The CEO’s happy laughter led us to a nearby beef barbecue restaurant.

The scent of grilled meat and cheerful laughter echoed around.

I stuffed ssam into my mouth without pause.

“Our Woo-joo. Chew well.”

The CEO kept offering me ssam with a fond smile as if staring at premium 1++ grade Hanwoo.

“Woo-joo, do you need anything? Any difficulties composing?”

“Uh... no.”

“If you need anything, just say so. I’ll have my card ready. Hohoho!”

It was the first time the CEO looked so pleased.

Thanks to his “hohoho!” laughter, the dinner mood was fantastic.

“Hyung, have some ssam.”

“Thanks.”

While taking the ssam Biju offered, I wondered what we might need.

From experience, if someone offers help you must seize the moment.

But we really needed nothing.

The studio environment was great, the dorm was great, and the food was delicious.

The only concern was Souffle...

Suddenly I thought of something.

The Souffle waving lightsticks when we got number one flashed vividly in my mind.

Now would be a good time to ask.

“CEO.”

“Yes, Woo-joo. Tell me anything.”

“I, uh, wanted to ask about our lightsticks—what are the plans for those?”

Such projects cost considerable money, so I was cautious.

Especially since we’d splurged freely on producing the mini second album.

There was even a joking rumor the CEO had sold a pillar of the building to fund it.

We had put the kind of money others spend on lightsticks into the album.

“Lightsticks?”

The CEO tilted his head, then called Director Jo, who was enjoying a beer.

“Director Jo, the lightsticks we made last time were for Scarlet, right?”

“Those were for Scarlet.”

“I see. So NewBlack doesn’t have any yet.”

Like he’d been waiting for the topic, Director Jo began speaking and my siblings pricked up their ears.

“We have a solo concert this summer. We planned to release them then.”

“Name the cost. I’ll approve everything.”

As the generous CEO spoke, I signaled my brothers.

‘Applause.’

‘Yes.’

‘Cheers too.’

They clapped and cheered.

“Thank you so much, CEO!”

“You’re amazing!”

“CEO is the best!”

“Hohoho! No need for that.”

Jung-hyun gave a thumbs up saying “CEO!” and then formed finger guns with his other hand, making the CEO grin widely.

Director Jo quietly laughed and downed his beer.

“Hohoho! If you need anything for the lightsticks, just say so! If we’re making them, they should be top quality.”

“Yes, we’ll tell you everything!”

As we smiled offering more ssam, the CEO clapped as though struck by inspiration.

“If we’re doing it, we need a pretty name. How about ‘Rac-bong,’ rac-bong? Hohoho!”

“...!”

Director Jo spat his beer, promotion staff paused mid-chopstick, and the road managers dropped their tongs.

Meanwhile Director Yoon refilled the CEO’s glass with an admiring expression.

The CEO waved his hand, saying it was a joke.

“Joking. Who would name it rac-bong?”

“Haha. Hahaha!”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“How about ‘Fresh Bong-Bong?’”

“......”

“Or shorten it to ‘Ppyong?’ ‘Hammer Ppyong?’ Or New-Ppyong... ‘Eye-poke?’ Isn’t that a trending slang? Let’s go bright and bold like that?”

Promotion staff began downing shots of soju in succession.

Director Jo refilled their glasses with beer.

Having once seen group name candidates like Lemon Boys and Flying Angels, I understood their reaction perfectly.

I smiled and pitched my idea to the CEO.

“CEO.”

“Yes, Woo-joo. What do you have in mind?”

“If it’s okay, could our members propose ideas too? Maybe we could draft some designs ourselves.”

Behind the interested CEO, staff clenched fists in supportive looks. freeweɓnøvel.com

Like cheering a soccer player dribbling toward the goal.

I added,

“If we lead the design, fans will appreciate it more even if it’s the same design.”

“Hmm. True. If you say you made it, complaints will....”

The CEO nodded.

Half persuaded, staff sent encouraging glances of ‘You can do it!’

I delivered the decisive line.

“I heard from Street Boys that DNS Media drafts their own designs....”

Staff switched from soju to cider with nods of ‘That’s it.’

“Hyeon-sik that guy...,” the CEO muttered, then grabbed my hand.

“Woo-joo.”

“Yes, CEO.”

“Whatever you want, do it. I’ll push it for you. Want the lightsticks to shoot flames?”

“Lightsticks that...?”

A magical flamethrower that makes the person in front disappear when you cheer.

Imagery of NewBlack’s forge: two go in, one comes out—such promotional lines sprang to mind.

With that competitor jab landing, the CEO agreed to let us take the lead on production.

Chewing premium beef brisket like bitter gall, the CEO snorted with amusement.

“I know that Im guy. ‘Lead production,’ my foot—he’ll draw the design and then do whatever he wants.”

Staff glanced at the CEO, then fell silent. The CEO met my eyes.

“If you have ideas, tell our staff.”

“About budget...?”

“Budget? Why should you think about that? If you want something, do it. Hohoho!”

“CEO...!”

As everyone laughed in emotion, I signaled my brothers again.

‘Applause.’

‘Yes.’

‘Fortissimo this time.’

Like cymbal-playing monkey dolls, my brothers went wild with claps.

“CEO...!”

“You guys...!”

“Hohoho!”

“Hahaha!”

The barbecue restaurant brimmed with warmth.

But the CEO didn’t know that upon hearing “no budget worries,” my brothers were already searching keywords like “lightsaber,” “maximum output,” and “wind power.”

Back at the company, we gathered in the studio.

Everyone was busy preparing schedules.

“Oooh~ Smell~”

The maknae delivered a fresh line.

“Ri-hyuk, can you smell this~?”

“Smell? What smell?”

“I mean the smell of spring. The feeling of spring ripening deeper~ so refreshing!”

“Oh dear, ripening spring.”

Why did that sound like “spring, damn it”?

“Huh? Why, Ri-hyuk, don’t you like spring?”

Someone whose ears had reddened sighed deeply then recited shyly.

“Ji-ho, I am the ice prince, after all. Of course I prefer winter over spring.”

“Pffft—!”

“Ah, don’t laugh!”

Biju, Jung-hyun, and I nibbled popcorn giggling and Ri-hyuk got irritated.

Ji-ho called him sternly.

“If you keep breaking immersion like that, it won’t work. You have to do it properly. You may sing well, but you lack professional spirit.”

“Oh, yes.”

His coaching was all correct critiques so Ri-hyuk could only twitch his lips.

“All right, let’s start again at that part about the ice prince. Ri-hyuk~ you don’t like spring?”

Our maknae really was fantastic.

Ri-hyuk might not be bad, but Ji-ho delivered that embarrassing line more naturally than anyone.

“See, hyung. Try it as ‘Spring is ripening ever more! Today’s stage is our returning ballad singer Son Bo-mi with “Love, Parting, Spring”!’ or something.”

“Hmm......”

“Don’t be shy. Remember when you said ‘I love you’? Channel that feeling. No one will mind. They might laugh, but they won’t judge.”

“Hey.”

“Hey, you don’t say ‘hey’ to your coach.”

Watching their banter, I looked around.

Jung-hyun was working on a mixtape, Biju helped me prepare for tonight’s Sintokki recording.

“The concept should stay as usual, right?”

“Yes, and better to be next to Han-jo than TNT or TeenSpirit. He’s the friendliest. The others might trip us up with slip-ups and fans might pounce.”

We’d researched our co-guests, asked senior celebrities for advice, and studied popular clips—now only final checks remained.

Biju, helping catch what I might miss, smiled.

“Don’t worry and do it like you always do, hyung.”

I was grateful for the encouragement of “You’re always good.”

As I reviewed the script again, Ji-ho called me impatiently.

“Woo-joo hyung!”

“Yes?”

“Hyung come try this. Ri-hyuk keeps asking how to do it.”

“Hey! You’re asking for something too difficult!”

“It’s not hard.”

I rolled over in the wheeled chair. It felt like kindergarteners tattling to the teacher “That guy is mean!”

“Stop fighting. What’s the problem?”

“Look. The concept here is ‘cold and gentle.’ If I’m bright and lively, hyung should be calm—but you twist like a twisted doughnut. Try it and see if it’s really hard.”

“I’m not so confident...”

Ri-hyuk skimmed his lines.

A cold yet gentle feeling. He adopted a fitting expression and delivered:

“Ji-ho, I am the ice prince, after all. Naturally I prefer winter over spring.”

After the short line, he looked up to see his brothers staring at him strangely.

“Hey Wang Ji-ho. I did better, didn’t I?”

“Why can you do it so well? Did your embarrassment wear off?”

“Hey.”

We laughed in disbelief, and I advised Ri-hyuk.

“Don’t feel the burden of MC. Relax. Close your eyes and imagine. Not people judging you, but Souffle in front of you.”

“I’ll try.”

He immediately improved.

As Ri-hyuk looked at me with renewed respect, Ji-ho narrowed his eyes and kept his distance.

“Hyung, get back to preparing for recording. I’ll teach Ri-hyuk hyung. Being his acting coach is my role.”

Seeing him wary as if Ri-hyuk had suddenly improved more under his teaching made me laugh.

“All right, you two live happily ever after.”

I stretched and looked around.

Everyone seemed in good condition.

Nothing special.

We could leave them be for a few hours safely.

As I buttoned my pink Hawaiian shirt, Biju asked,

“Already leaving?”

“Yes, I’ll stop by the salon, change clothes, then head over.”

“Phew, that’s a relief......”

“What?”

“Nothing. Really.”

When I said I was leaving, all four of them came to see me to the door.

What’s this?

This unusually friendly send-off felt ominous, so I asked to be sure.

“What’s this? Why are you seeing me off?”

“What do you mean? We always see you off.”

Nodding as they did, I narrowed my eyes.

“You’re not going to play my voice on Sintokki later, right? Like ‘I have a confession~’ are you?”

Ji-ho shook his head earnestly.

“No way.”

“Right. No way.”

“Do we look like we’d do that? So mean.”

“So cruel.”

Ah. This is really unsettling.

I’d gone out of my way to be nice before the show—wonder if it’ll help.

My brothers are naturally ungrateful.

“Hurry up and go! Go!”

“Hyung, go already!”

Half-pushed out I felt an inexplicable foreboding.

...It’ll be fine, right? Tonight’s show?

TBC building in Sangam-dong.

The set for New Concept Talk Show: Find My Memory bustled with pre-recording preparations.

“Yaaawn......”

The hosts stifled yawns as they greeted each other.

“Oh, hyung’s here?”

“The traffic was terrible.”

One who’d just arrived grumbled.

“Is it Friday? Why is the traffic so bad? When was the last time we recorded at this hour?”

“They said the guest is an idol.”

Someone leafing through the script said,

“They barely fit this into the schedule. They booked top stars and a group that’s just starting to blow up.”

“NewBlack? I’ve been hearing their song on the radio while coming here.”

The host who’d said it played “Wonderful Night” daily, removed his coat.

“Since we’re recording at this hour, I hope we get plenty of footage.”

“We’ll pull just enough as usual. Does an idol on this show ever make it fun?”

“If they’re hot... it’ll skew the airtime a lot.”

Rarely had idol specials been entertaining on this show.

They claim to reveal weaknesses, yet only pleasant anecdotes surface—hardly fun.

Hosts secretly think “Wow, amazing!” but inwardly go “Uh... is that all?”

While everyone fretted over airtime, the senior guest called the PD.

“Producer Kim!”

Turning, the PD was asked by the eldest guest.

“How do you feel about today’s lineup? Anything interesting prepared?”

“It’s straightforward, senior.”

Producer Kim thought over it, then smirked as if recalling something.

“But there is one nugget.”

“Nugget?”

“What do I call it? The more you dig, crazy stuff emerges. Thanks to them we won’t lack footage.”

“Oh... there’s someone like that? Who is it?”

“NewBlack’s Woo-joo.”

“Him?”

Everyone tilted their heads.

“Doesn’t he look like the most mundane person here?”

“When I saw the line-up, I thought he’d have the least to talk about....”

As that conversation went on, the guests’ eyes turned to Host Yoo, returning from the restroom.

“Cha-hyun.”

“Yes?”

“You were in Taiwan with NewBlack at that party—how’s that guy Woo-joo?”

“...Woo-joo?”

“I heard there’s a lot of material, but judging by his looks he seems far from dynamic.”

Yoo Chang-hyun paused.

Keywords like “dough kneading,” “Woo-Jenmin,” and “Maasai walking” floated in his mind.

“Well......”

He cleared his throat and told the curious.

“You’ll know when you see later.”

It was impossible to explain in a single word.