In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“The reason I chose you as my partner to work on the so-called Pig Song is simple.”

“Because of your words, I dreamed of the masquerade ball. To capture the imagery in the song, it’s best to hear it directly from the person who came up with the idea.”

“I shot myself in the foot.”

“Foot? That expression is odd. Um... it’s like you’ve won the lottery.”

“The lottery?”

“The lottery of getting to work with me.”

“......”

It’d been a while since he’d looked at me as if I were ridiculous.

“Whenever Junghyun or Riheok worked with me on a song, you always said you were jealous.”

“I never did.”

Jiho shook his head.

“I’m always happy. I’m satisfied being the maknae.”

“Really?”

I tilted my head. “That’s strange. I clearly remember you at McDonald’s with fries, saying, ‘When hyungs were preparing year-end evaluations or singing or composing, I had nothing to do but stay behind.’”

“......You remember that?”

“I don’t let anything you say go in one ear and out the other.”

“......”

“So stop trying to run away and let’s enjoy working together.”

I caught him as he was turning his chair toward the door and pushed him back to face the monitor.

His eyes trembled nervously as I loaded the composition program.

He looked like a hostage who’d been kidnapped, and I couldn’t help laughing.

“Jiho, why are you so scared?”

“I keep picturing Junghyun or Riheok’s expressions.”

“Why them?”

“Every time they worked with you, they had nightmares.”

“......”

“I’d never seen Junghyun hyung have nightmares. He was thrashing and almost fell from the top bunk. And when we did ‘Night Sea,’ Riheok hyung muttered curses in his sleep.”

“Was it that hard?”

“They had serious dark circles.”

I honestly couldn’t remember.

When I focus on one goal, I chase it single-mindedly and neglect the surroundings.

Was it really that hard to work with me?

I recalled ‘Fireworks’ and ‘Night Sea.’

–Junghyun, how was it? Fun?

–Uh... hyung, I saw on TV that creative work like this should be done alone.

Hmm.

–Riheok, thanks for all your hard work.

–......

Hmm.

Our maknae nodded at the shifting expression on my face.

Then I looked at the camera. “Please edit this well, PD-nim.”

“No way. Include this. Add a subtitle: ‘Evil boss who exploits juniors.’”

“Hey, I have an image to maintain.”

“Then for the image, put ‘old man who torments children.’ Ah! Look at him! He’s torturing me!”

Anyone would think I was beating him.

He yanked his cheek and held a press conference in front of the camera.

I spoke to the camera. “It seems the other juniors keep scaring Jiho with weird stories, but everyone, today I’ll show Jiho how fun composing really is.”

“Woo-joo hyung.”

“Yes?”

“I won’t run away anymore. Could you let go of my hand?”

“Not yet.”

And I gave the camera a grin.

After the reality-show talk, we dove right into work.

My focus point was the song’s color.

If our debut song, ‘Fireworks,’ introduced NewBlack’s group color to fans, this time I wanted to highlight individual colors.

Especially this track—I wanted to focus on the maknae who came up with the masquerade ball idea.

“What kind of music do you like? I don’t really discriminate. I listen to what friends listen to or what’s trending. I often put Mango Chart 100 on shuffle.”

“Why games? There’s no big reason. I enjoy buying in-game items, and it’s just fun. Are there people who don’t like games?”

“My favorite color is red! No big reason, but red is hard to pull off unless you’re really handsome. It feels special. That’s why I like pink too. Hyung... but what does this have to do with this track?”

It did relate.

What I intended for this track was to showcase one of our group’s colors prominently.

If ‘Fireworks’ blended everyone’s colors harmoniously, this time I’d focus on each member’s individual color.

That required understanding the member.

Now, I wanted to make a song that best expressed our maknae’s color.

It was just a matter of timing—actually something I’d been thinking about for a while.

NewBlack is a group activity.

So I wanted our soufflés—all of us—to be loved, not just one member.

But through recent activities, I’d been getting too much attention.

Since Music Café days—or even earlier.

There was one time when I saw the fan café’s posts were plastered with ‘Woo-joo.’

As many as all the other members combined.

It made my heart skip.

It was an ominous sign.

From training days watching senior artists, disproportionate growth of one member’s individual fans isn’t good.

It can cause the fandom to fight from the rookie days.

I didn’t want that.

What I wanted wasn’t my personal success, but our group’s success.

That’s why I wanted this track to bring attention to the other members too.

And that’s partly why I accepted Director Jo’s offer to produce the album.

Because this time...

“Jiho.”

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

“...To get water.”

“There’s a water cooler inside. Drink there.”

“I want something warm.”

“They have hot water too.”

“Actually, my throat feels a bit scratchy, so I brought a tea bag.”

“A tea bag?”

“Yes.”

“Open the second drawer. Bijoo stocked various kinds. There’s honey from Grandpa Kang Moon-sik. If your throat hurts, make honey water.”

“......”

Watching the maknae’s face made like the ‘ㅠㅠ’ emoticon, I propped my chin on my hand and continued thinking.

How could I bring out his charm 100 percent on stage?

Jiho’s skills were solid.

No, he was good.

He once cried, ‘I can’t do anything!’ but that was only because he felt pushed aside. In another group he’d be called an ace.

The so-called balance type.

He excelled in dance and song, and above all, he had the visuals.

Just standing there, people would like him.

But drawing attention with dance or song alone was tricky.

If Bijoo and I stood on either side, and he was center, he’d be too stressed.

We needed impact in the bridge between the second and third verses.

...Maybe highlight his facial expressions?

I clicked the mouse as I thought.

I played each section in turn, closed my eyes, and drew the stage in my mind.

The PBS public hall stage.

Jibicam cameras on both sides, three main cameras in front, and me standing with my juniors.

Leaving aside performance details, I began conceptualizing by part.

But then...

“Hmm.”

“What’s wrong?”

I asked the maknae sipping peppermint tea next to me.

“Well, first I think we need to paint the color. Adjust the overall tone of the song.”

I recalled the color designated for our first album.

Naturally, the color I pictured was red.

–‘Bijoo hyung’ invited ‘Wang Jiho.’

Bijoo hyung [Jiho]

Bijoo hyung [Are you upset?]

Jiho [I don’t know]

Jiho [Everyone abandoned me]

–Wang Jiho left the chat.

–‘Junghyuni hyung’ invited ‘Wang Jiho.’

Junghyuni hyung [ㅎㅇ]

Jiho [Don’t invite me]

–‘Wang Jiho’ left the chat.

–‘Junghyuni hyung’ invited ‘Wang Jiho.’

Junghyuni hyung [ㅎㅇ]

Jiho [I said don’t]

Junghyuni hyung [ㅎㅇ]

Bijoo hyung [Jiho, I’d help but I’m in a lesson]

Jiho [Junghyun hyung too?]

Junghyuni hyung [Nope I’m done]

Junghyuni hyung [Good work]

Jiho [Wow]

Jiho [Waaa]

Jiho [I’m really disappointed]

Jiho [And why didn’t Riheok hyung invite me?]

Seo Riheok [ㅋ]

Seo Riheok [Why would I invite you?]

Seo Riheok [Be a rookie actor, see if you meet people who spoil you like us]

Seo Riheok [Go outside and feel the cold wind, tsk tsk]

Jiho [Yes, professor]

Jiho [🖕]

Seo Riheok [🖕🖕🖕🖕]

Jiho [🖕 x 200]

Jiho put down his phone.

He sat at the studio table, chin in hand, staring at me.

Sun Woo-joo was gazing at the screen as if he’d drill through it.

I thought, he’s a really strange hyung.

It’d been two hours already.

He’d hardly sipped any water, lost in thought, then suddenly clicked the mouse like crazy, or pressed the synthesizer keys while stroking his chin.

I remembered the chocolate factory from a movie.

It seemed like Oompa-Loompas were running machines he couldn’t understand in his head.

After tweaking the song so much...

“Jiho.”

“Yes?”

“Want to listen? Which is better, version A or B? I’ll play both.”

“Um... I think B is better. It feels more... slick?”

“Okay.”

And when I drifted off and answered halfheartedly, he’d notice right away.

“Which is better?”

“A.”

“They were the same version.”

“......”

“Focus, Jiho.”

“Make sure this airs, please. It’s like a trap.”

Honestly, at first I didn’t understand how choosing helped.

But as I listened to the changing song... the feeling kept shifting.

Familiarity? Comfort?

It felt as if a custom suit was being tailored live in front of me.

He blinked in amazement at the final version, and I grinned.

“How is it?”

“It seems similar but feels completely different. Hyung, how did you do this?”

“Um... as with the first album, your representative color is red. So I painted the song with color.”

Painted the song?

I explained for his puzzled look.

“Everyone perceives differently, but sounds have colors too. For example, when a sound moves downward like this—”

I tapped the synthesizer keys, gliding from high to low.

“See how the color feels darker? Even if the color is the same, it seems richer, and almost bluish.”

“......”

“If that’s hard, I’ll use instruments instead of scales.”

I played another instrument via computer.

With a click, a pleasant flute sounded.

“This sound won’t be in our music, but it’s a flute. Transparent, subtle, like a clear sky.”

“......?”

“And this drum sound is white or black. Each hit is like black dots spreading on a white background.”

Watching me explain earnestly, Jiho just blinked.

Color in sound—it sounded insane, but I described it vividly as if he could see it.

Memories surfaced.

When we made ‘Something,’ I closed my eyes for ten minutes and then said I knew what to do. Or when I tapped the car window rhythmically and hummed a melody thinking, ‘This should be the beat.’

Hearing that reminded me of what the hyungs said returning from working with me.

–Woo-joo hyung is really... unique.

Kim Junghyun nodded as if there was no better word, and Seo Riheok clicked his tongue.

–He’s truly a born musician.

At the time I laughed, calling him Mozart, but working closely I understood why they said that.

Watching me explain excitedly, Jiho stole a glance at the camera.

Even for a fellow member it was strange. I wondered how fans would react if this aired.

That day, the work exploiting our maknae ended smoothly.

At first he looked bored and pained, but at some point his gaze toward me changed.

His eyes sparkled.

I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, but he began to speak up.

—I think that part should be shorter so it hits quickly in performance.

—For the chorus, imagining Bijoo hyung in the center, maybe the pitch could be higher.

Thanks to his suggestions, apart from naming the song, our work finished easily.

If this continued, we could show the completed track to the A&R team right after Chuseok.

A comeback in November gave us plenty of time.

Meanwhile, early September flew by.

In showbiz, the babies appearing on parenting variety shows were beloved nationwide, and scandals abounded.

Notably, a famous actor was caught colluding with organized crime to run a marijuana farm in Gyeonggi-do, making headlines. A list of celebrities who’d received cannabis shook the industry.

Though a huge uproar, we remained calm.

None were people we’d met—only seen in photos—and our focus /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ was the upcoming Tidal Bore show.

“How do you think it’ll go?”

The day before Chuseok.

We ate bulgogi for lunch, each holding an ice cream, walking through the alley toward the company.

I answered Junghyun’s question. “It’ll go well.”

“I just thought—rolling around with a black goat might look odd on TV.”

“Thinking of that now? Impressive.”

“I am impressive.”

“Hyung’s teasing you, Junghyun.”

“Ahaha.”

Riheok scolded me playfully, and Junghyun shrugged. “Anyway, my parents and relatives will watch together. I can’t embarrass myself.”

“But hyung saved a life.”

“I heard the goat is eight years old. With a lifespan of 12 to 15 years, that’s middle-aged for a goat.”

“Then let’s say he saved a middle-aged life.”

We agreed. Though the conversation veered oddly, it was our usual chat.

Bijoo said regretfully, “I wish I could watch TV with my parents on the holiday.”

“Me too.”

“Well, we can watch together. We...”

When Riheok spoke, his ears turned red. Clearing his throat, he said, “We will.”

We laughed—he almost said family.

Well, spending the holiday with just us wasn’t so bad.

Bzzz—

After telling the juniors to go ahead, I followed and answered a call with a big smile.

“Hello. This is Sun Woo-joo, specialized happiness counselor Kim Deok-soon, always bringing joy to customers.”

–You’re full of nonsense.

“Really.”

I frowned. “You could at least play along.”

–You need just the right nonsense. If you do it in this weird voice, who’d like it?

“Our fans like it.”

–Oh dear, they’re strange too. What’s good about a face-only guy?

Hearing the juniors ahead stifle laughs, I turned down the volume a few levels.

Such a loud voice, Kim Deok-soon.

“Why’d you call, Grandma?”

–Well, it’s Chuseok eve. Of course I called. Oh, can’t Grandma call her grandson?

“Your tone is odd.”

–What?

“It’s the tone you use when you’re hiding something.”

–Oh, well. Nothing like that.

...Though something felt off.

I entered the company building. I tapped my key card, and the door beeped open.

–So where are you now?

“We’re heading down to practice.”

–Oh, I see.

Perhaps to give me privacy, my juniors wordlessly entertained themselves in the underground hallway.

They danced as they walked, one nudging another to continue the dance.

Jiho, swaying his body, pointed at Bijoo. Bijoo danced and then pointed at me.

I, phone pressed to my ear, danced into the practice room.

Just as my clumsy breakdance made them laugh—

“Grandma.”

“Yes?”

...Huh?

I whirled around at her live voice in the corner of the practice room.

My whole body froze.

“......”

My grandma Kim Deok-soon and my other relatives stood against the wall, watching me in mid-dance.

She clicked her tongue. “You came.”

“......”

Why was Grandma there?