In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

6 p.m.

As the yellow full moon drifted into the sky, highways and terminals across the country swelled with vehicles and people. Smiles faded quickly as travelers, thinking of reunions after long absences, grew weary. Some sighed at the stalled traffic; others clutched tickets while glancing at departure boards. A few sipped hot fish-cake broth from paper cups to quell rumbling stomachs.

Everyone had their own way to pass the tedious time—playing games on smartphones, messaging friends, or simply staring blankly at passersby. But the most reliable cure was television. Parents struggling with restless children in gridlocked cars switched on DMB, and those seated in train or bus terminals stared at large TVs. It was Sunday evening, so channels naturally defaulted to TBC.

“Roll it! The dice!”

“Waaah!”

Viewers murmured to each other as clips showed celebrities gathered outside the studio, applauding and cheering.

“Wow, that’s a lot of people. What did they call them for?”

“I saw the preview—they go to some rural village and do a mission. Split into teams, compete, that kind of thing.”

“Really? Think it’ll be fun?”

As the show’s hosts introduced guest stars, homeward-bound travelers chatted eagerly.

“Look at Han Sora’s proportions. Insane.”

“There’s Seo Ji-hyeong again. Didn’t he do that mudflat show before? He’s almost got perfect attendance.”

“Honey, that actor over there—isn’t he the painter from ‘Brush of Memory’? He’s so handsome. He really stands out even among celebrities.”

As well‐known figures from every field appeared, attention naturally gravitated to them.

“Hey, there’s already articles about this.”

“Really?”

Less than ten minutes in, the portals ran entertainment headlines:

–Chuseok Special ‘Jusehan,’ Stars Assemble

–Lee Gun-woo: “I’ve gained 5 kg since ‘Brush of Memory.’ Please forgive me...”

–Hee-chan & Hee-yeon, the Perpetual Late-Sibling Duo, Get the Crew Laughing

Truly a national-variety phenomenon: even trivial banter made headlines, and community forums buzzed with real-time commentary. Even those who’d planned only to surf the web found themselves drawn to the terminal TVs—soon breaking into smiles and laughter.

Drivers chuckled at the dialogue as if listening to a radio, entertained by skits, ad-libs, amusing anecdotes, and on-radio communications between cars. NewBlack flashed on screen briefly, but no one paid them much heed.

“Oh, he’s handsome.”

Someone might briefly look him up online, but real-time search trends were dominated by Lee Gun-woo, Han Sora, and others. Few knew which rookie boy group was on screen—most only recognized names like TNT.

Then the first mission began, and NewBlack started # Nоvеlight # to catch viewers’ eyes.

“Whoa, looks like he’s good at household chores.”

“Does he really enjoy cleaning that much?”

One idol member, previously slumped like a squid complaining about the heat, was now beaming as he swept. His once–icy expression seemed incapable of greater joy.

“Is that staged?”

“No way. Look—just like my mom, scolding as she tidies up.”

His face bloomed with genuine happiness, not the forced grin of capitalism but a laugh born from real contentment—complete with CGI spring flowers behind him. A traveler at Seoul Station lifted her smartphone:

“He’s born in ’97? Such a baby... ten years younger than me.”

“And the one with him?”

“She’s ’93.”

As clichéd remarks about idols’ youth flew, the screen revealed the tidy results. The simple act of moving furniture and clearing clutter transformed a house.

“Whoa...”

“Small changes make a huge difference. Just moved the furniture, and the place looks brand-new.”

“He could start his own interior business.”

Watching him excitedly explain his reasoning, and the grandmother moved to tears, travelers smiled at the heartwarming scene.

As the program cut back to Team A actors and Team B singers, viewers almost forgot NewBlack—until another member appeared. Resembling a refined young man, he stood in the village hall with Yeo Hee-yeon, worry on his face.

“What should we do, senior? They’re so good.”

“It’s okay. We can win.”

The camera then captured Seo Ji-hyeong and Han Yeoreum cooking. Ji-hyeong’s prowess matched his reputation as the owner of a famed Hongdae gopchang restaurant, and Han Yeoreum cooked like a deity. With a “Domestic and Overseas Blend” caption and cooking-show music, onlookers gushed:

“Wow, Seo Ji-hyeong looks even better now.”

“Is that Han Yeoreum? He’s amazing—like a drama chef.”

Meanwhile, Team B’s cook-off blazed toward disaster, and viewers laughed at Song Jin-woo and Joo Ha-na’s wrecking-crew antics. The screen then shifted to Team C—cooking novices notoriously bad in the kitchen, ye Ye Hee-yeon and a delicate idol who seemed a million light-years from culinary skill.

Yet the next scene defied expectations. Bijoo, previously fretting over the mission, seized a chef’s knife and sliced a carrot in a single, fluid motion.

“......?”

Viewers blinked—only doubt and worry had been edited in before. Yeo Hee-yeon mirrored their stunned expression.

–You said cooking was your hobby?

–Yes, a hobby.

As the crowd watched this display of skill, Team A’s confidence rose. Clips showed Bijoo efficiently guiding Yeo Hee-yeon.

“I did it all!”

“Great job, senior. Try this.”

“Ah—thanks... no, thank you.”

Yeo Hee-yeon, delighted by the gift of meat, tilted her head in surprised amusement.

“He’s a bit unusual.”

“Right? I thought he was timid but he speaks his mind.”

Once seeming frail, he proved a pro homemaker. In this way, NewBlack etched itself into viewers’ memories. Their unique personalities drew attention, even if they weren’t uproariously funny—these picture-perfect idols doing eccentric things caught the eye.

Then the TV cut to Team A actors looking aghast.

“Kyaah! What is that?”

With a dramatic sting and slow-motion, a black goat appeared. A caption read [♂ Daegil, 8 years old, anger-management disorder], prompting laughter from returning holidaymakers.

“That goat’s huge—looks like a water buffalo.”

“If you saw that at night you’d faint. And that personality...”

The goat charged like a battering ram, sending tension soaring. Then Hee-chan and Junghyun approached Daegil. When the dreadlocked rapper knelt and smiled, the goat accepted it as a challenge and bolted.

And then—slam.

Screen after screen filled with exclamation marks as humans froze in place. A subtitle assured [Not a freeze-frame], then shouts of “Run!” and the chase was on. A rope tied to a weight dragged behind Daegil as humans scurried away in absurd comedy.

“Puhahaha!”

Inside dark cars, in terminals, on KTX and buses, viewers laughed uproariously. It was the night’s highlight: every goat chase sparked fresh hilarity, each escape shot flowing like a comedy film. Some laughed so hard they cried.

“Wow, that was epic.”

“That’s so funny—I wouldn’t believe it even if it were staged.”

“My sides hurt.”

Obstructed highways and slow trains vanished from minds as the goat chase replayed on loop. At that moment, “NewBlack” and “Junghyun” skyrocketed in real-time search trends. Henceforth, Junghyun became a daily hot topic—wrestling goats, naming wildflowers with bright eyes, teaching orchard pals about apples: a portrait of rural charm.

After his breakout fame, casual glances at NewBlack grew more frequent. When multiple guests shared a shot, viewers instinctively found NewBlack; in solo shots, they felt an unexpected warmth. And the more attention they drew, the more one member—Woo-joo—stayed in viewers’ minds.

While other members shone through quirky characters or highlight scenes, Woo-joo slipped in naturally: chatting like friends with grandmas, a middle-aged woman watching him smile; Grandpa Kang returning and seeing Woo-joo’s genuine delight, inspiring a cane-leaning elder on a terminal bench to gaze at the TV. Then members Woo Jae-yong and Yang Ok-bun joined seniors for massages—clumsy but cheerful, laughter flowing freely. Footage of them gently rubbing red hands behind their backs caught the camera. An older viewer remarked, “That kid’s admirable.” In keeping with the special’s “filial piety” theme, these moments drew warm glances.

Finally, all of NewBlack appeared together: the maknae singing trot and goofing around, others giving massages, viewers breaking into heartfelt smiles. The scene felt healing. Other teams delivered similar touching moments, and Part 1 closed on a warm note. Previews of shoveling scenes and various missions followed, themselves fully entertaining.

When the show ended and news tickers previewed Chuseok travel updates, people returned to their routines—back into boredom, searching for something else to pass time. Yet those who’d enjoyed the show drifted online, eager to see others’ reactions and find shared sentiments. Browsing social media and forums, they nodded along.

“What is this?”

But some were truly bewildered. A young man, Ha Eun-seong—recently discharged—tapped his smartphone, blinking in disbelief. The familiar face on screen had stunned him.

“What... this can’t be real.”

He stared at the portal profile labeled “NewBlack Woo-joo,” utterly puzzled. Until last year, he’d known Woo-joo only as a fellow army admin; now the same senior was appearing on TV as an idol.

‘Wasn’t he supposed to be taking the CSAT?’

It was a genuine mystery.

As NewBlack trended and entertainment reporters raced to publish articles, the Chuseok special of “Jusehan” pulled an average 18.8% rating—over ten points clear of its time-slot rival—becoming the talk of every household. In a country home in Gyeonggi Province:

“NewBlack? What kind of group are they?”

“They say they’re idols. Must be big with kids these days.”

“I’ve never heard of them. Well, you need to know someone. Hey, I’d like one of those massages myself.”

“This’ll be news after the show, right?”

Around the family table, politics and job hunting gave way to variety-show banter. Yet each time someone praised the celebrities and mentioned NewBlack, one relative—bowl of kimchi stew in one hand, phone under the table in the other—flicked a startled glance.

–I feel so weird right nowㅠㅠ seeing my family talk about our kids on TV

Comments flooded in as fellow soufflés awaited:

–Me too... so strange. Happy, but surreal;;

–When my uncle asked who NewBlack was, my tongue twisted and I said “They’re Woo-joo but I don’t know his name”... now my uncle’s teasing “Oh, you care about that?” Shh, Uncle, I’ve been going to the studio...

–We all laughed watching cousins. When Junghyun chased the goat, I lost it lol he’s crazy

–Never thought I’d be talking NewBlack with relatives on Chuseok

–You guys worked so hardㅠㅠㅠ

Amid them, one comment summed up every fan’s hope:

–The reaction’s so good—hope it lastsㅠㅠ

I remembered the blockbuster success of “Something.” At Jiho’s graduation I’d been bombarded by entertainment reporters. This time, our parents were the interviewees:

“Hello? Yes, that’s my child. Amazing, right? Even I was surprised watching. Who knew my son would turn out like this? Yes, the PD must really like him.”

“That’s right. I laughed when Junghyun ran around. What nonsense—why was Junghyun FaceTiming my niece? If they want weird talk, I hung up.”

“Hello? Sook-ja? You saw the show?”

Relatives and friends immediately called after the episode ended. “Your son’s on TV—what’s going on? Is it real?” Though Grandma grumbled through calls, her cheeks twitched with pride. Other parents’ smiles stretched to the ceiling and beyond. I felt proud on their behalf.

After all, it was just one variety-show appearance—but they beamed as if nothing in the world could be finer. Some hands trembled over phones. Equally dazed, our own phones buzzed nonstop.

“Crazy. My chat’s blowing up.”

“Mine too.”

“Same—so many names I haven’t heard in ages.”

Indeed, “Jusehan” proved itself a true national variety show. Contacts flowed in from army buddies, trainers, former trainees at TJ, school friends—anyone who might’ve known me. After replying to team-group messages and a text from Senior Jang Sowon, I shut off my phone.

“...What is this? It feels so unreal.”

Despite the roaring response, I realized I’d never truly been on TV variety before. Bijoo—phone off—blushed as he said,

“I feel it too... like a dream.”

“Shall we pinch ourselves?”

“Okay, hyung.”

It wasn’t a dream—it was simply a reminder of how potent a cooking-enthusiast’s touch could be. We all wore the same stunned expressions, our surroundings seeming to sway though we’d not drunk a drop.

“Don’t get too excited. Even if a variety show goes well, it usually fizzles out after a day or two.”

As I soothed the juniors, Seok-hwan hyung—having hung up a call—silenced his ringing phone and clicked his tongue.

“I’ve already got a cable network request.”

“...Now?”

But before I could think further, dizziness struck. My legs wobbled.

“Hyung, you okay?”

“Just a moment.”

I waved the juniors off and leaned against the wall. These were drinking symptoms—had I really had alcohol? Overcome by sudden, irresistible drowsiness...

Thirty seconds later, I blinked awake—only to unleash a chaos.

“Hyung Woo-joo? What’s wrong?!”

“Shouldn’t we call 119? Wake up!”

Riheok’s slaps rained on my cheeks as Jiho clasped Riheok’s wrist, sobbing,

“Don’t hit Woo-joo hyung! What if you hurt him?”

“Stop that nonsense! People don’t die from this!”

“Hyung, can you hear me? Blink if you can.”

“What’s going on, kids?”

“Hyung said he felt dizzy and passed out.”

As the adults panicked, Grandma Kim Deok-soon barreled in at lightning speed. Surveying me, she clicked her tongue:

“Drank, you rascal.”

“...Drank?”

“He’s the type whose tongue goes off if a drop of soju touches it. The doctor said he’s missing something essential.”

“But hyung only drank cola...”

All eyes snapped to Jiho, who’d sipped the cola. Grandma growled,

“Jiho.”

“...”

“What did you put in it?”

“Well, I—”

“Beer, a little...?”

“...”

“And some soju...”

“...”

“But mostly cola! I haven’t even—”

As Jiho’s sisters seized him, Riheok froze in shock. Junghyun and Bijoo crouched beside me, anxious:

“Is he okay? Should we go to the ER?”

“The doctor said he’s just sleeping—no need to worry.”

Sitting beside me, Grandma chided,

“You idiot. Can’t tell liquor from cola, or miso from excrement?”

Gently brushing my hair, she smiled down at her sleeping grandson.

Chuseok eve’s family gathering—stoked by a variety-show appearance—ended in a whimsical so-maek-cola fiasco.