In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The stage, blacked out moments before, brightened again.

What first caught the Soufflés’ eyes was the keyboard set dead center on the stage.

‘What’s this?’

Curiosity glinted on every fan’s face.

Whereas the other members had played games or held debates, Woo­joo had simply hosted talk on Friday’s live—and then finished.

“Actually, I did prepare an event. But it didn’t feel right to show over a live broadcast. So I planned to reveal it as a surprise gift today at the fan meeting.”

Fans didn’t know what to expect, but Woo­joo’s eyes sparkled with excitement all through the broadcast. Their anticipation now soared.

Would it be something as odd as the penguin dance last time? Or perhaps a song gift?

Fans who’d expected a second showcase from rookie animal group Penguins felt a pang when the members emerged in casual clothes.

But that passed in an instant.

The Soufflés’ eyes shone. There was something to see.

Though the angle made it hard to be sure, it looked as if a laptop sat beside the keyboard, and an unfamiliar device connected by cable.

The MC exited, leaving only the members for the finale.

In the melancholy hush, Woo­joo parted his lips.

“Really, this is the thing I least wanted to say today... but now we have to say goodbye...”

From the audience came a chorus of “Ahhh!”

Woo­joo smiled sheepishly.

“Yes, it’s time for us to part again. You don’t want to, right?”

Instantly the crowd chorused their protest. Woo­joo nodded.

“We really don’t want to let you go, either—but it’s time.”

“Don’t leave. Live here with us.”

“Really? Shall we live here?”

The members shared a laugh, then Woo­joo took the mic again.

“Well, sadly... we must part. So I prepared a gift to ease your sadness. As you’ve guessed, it’s a song.”

He sat at the keyboard, and the others gathered closely behind him.

“Now that I think about it, there hasn’t been an official fan song for Soufflés. So I wrote one myself.”

“Really. I watched him every step of the way.”

“Huh? Why were you watching so closely?”

“Exactly. Why were you spying on me?”

“You told me to watch!”

“When did I?”

“You did! And you said if I added anything weird, stop me...”

“Guys, we’re talking about Woo­joo right now...”

“When exactly? What time, what minute, what second?”

“Hey... you brothers. I’m trying to share something heartfelt with the fans here. Please focus.”

“Yes.”

Chastised by their leader, the brothers pouted—and the fans laughed.

“Okay, so here’s the fan song. As my brothers said, I prepared it alone, and we wrote the lyrics ourselves, so there are many rough spots. But you’ll listen kindly, right?”

At the reply, Woo­joo’s eyes softened.

“Then let’s begin. The title is ‘Starlight.’”

He smiled brightly, then focused on the keyboard as though recalling a sketch inside his head. What was he thinking?

As fans wondered, his fingers moved gently, playing a very simple eight-bar melody.

“...?”

And then it ended.

When Woo­joo lifted his fingers, the Soufflés were still puzzled. ‘Is that it?’

Just as they thought it was over, the simple keyboard melody repeated, over and over.

‘Ah, that machine is doing something...’

Indeed, Woo­joo had gently pressed a button on the floor device like a pedal. Some fans whispered, “I saw that on TV—loop station.”

Standing behind him, the other members smiled mysteriously, as if curious about the fans’ reactions.

Woo­joo’s fingers moved again, adding a second keyboard melody.

But that wasn’t all.

He picked up an acoustic guitar placed beneath the keys. As the two melodies intertwined, the guitar’s soft tones blended perfectly.

Next, he tapped the guitar’s body in rhythm: tap, tap. One by one, instruments joined in.

To a professional musician it might seem ordinary, but in the Soufflés’ eyes it was astonishing: with each added sound, the song took shape.

It was like building a quaint house on empty ground.

And as if that house were meant for the fans, the NewBlack members shared gentle smiles.

Then Woo­joo brought the mic to his mouth and made a soft “tsutsutsu” sound, beckoning the brothers to come closer.

Raising his index finger to signal the beat, he called for an a cappella harmony: “Oooooh,” the members’ voices joined, from sweet high tones to deep lows to the smooth middle that bound them all.

It was the final brushstroke on a painting.

As each instrument added color, the last touch emerged—and finally, Woo­joo’s fingers danced on the keys again, launching the main theme.

A gentle, flowing melody—the fan song NewBlack had prepared for the Soufflés: “Starlight.”

Heart pounding, Woo­joo pressed the loop station’s record pedal with his foot.

It was complete.

He had worried he might misstep, but now his nerves eased as he looked back at the brothers ready behind him.

They nodded with smiles, clutching their own microphones, and he returned their gaze.

“Guys, shall we do this together?”

The idea had started with a video Woo­joo showed them while planning Soufflé Week: a famous pop star using a loop station live in concert. Just as he expected, the brothers loved it, and they went on to finish a song for the fans.

Though hastily assembled and of uncertain quality, at least he hoped for the Soufflés’ approval.

In the spacious live hall, all eyes were fixed on them as the looped sounds formed a unified song.

It felt like a warm darkness, that melody.

Notes felt like a friendly, intimate conversation.

Each time fans closed their eyes, the seven-tone scale’s notes blended like a rainbow then turned black again.

Woo­joo pressed the keys, imagining a warm, empty night sky—painting blank space with bright stars.

He created tiny, cute stars with soft melodies, then added another line to make each star shine.

Soon a night sky woven with stars appeared in his mind.

It was a long prelude. At first the intense silence felt unnerving, but he sensed the fans weren’t displeased; a subtle excitement pulsed from the crowd.

Now the song proper began.

A youthful voice behind him sang the first line:

“If what we speak becomes true

May every season in this world

Be our time together”

Originally he’d thought of hiring a lyricist, but to stay true to the fan-song spirit they wrote the lyrics themselves: each member expressing what they wanted to say to the fans.

Jiho took the next verse:

“I... don’t have anything special to say. It’s just good. Can I write that I like you? Our Soufflés are amazing, king of kings?”

He spoke it unpretentiously, like only the maknae could.

In the darkened hall, countless light sticks traced gentle curves.

As Jiho finished, the pre-recorded harmonies completed his lines:

“So we can come closer

Please remember my name”

Now it was the main vocalist’s turn.

“Ah, really. Why keep staring? Curious what I’m writing? Please go focus somewhere else! If you come one more step closer I... what will you do? I don’t even know, so go away!”

He’d snapped irritatedly at fans who shuffled forward during their Ganggangsullae dance to peek at his lyrics—but hearing the complete text explained why:

He’d written fourteen lines full of gratitude, affection, longing, a wish to stay together, and occasional apologies.

While commenting he’d played nihilist—yet the lyrics numbered 500 characters. As we teased him “500-character villain,” he sheepishly condensed them into a heartfelt “thank you” message.

His pure, clear voice carrying those words earned cheers, just as lively as a wave spreading blue light through the crowd—inspiring goosebumps.

When Rihyeok replaced the mic, the harmonies recorded earlier finished his verse:

“If time had no end

That would be ours”

For Junghyun’s turn, he varied the keyboard melody slightly.

“I want to say: let’s stay together until the 50th anniversary dinner show.”

Instead of rapping, Junghyun spoke calmly, delivering his heart’s message. “Let’s stay together a long time.”

Though unaccompanied, his deep, steady tone melded naturally into the song. When his verse ended, our harmonies surged again:

“I’ll embrace you warmly

Come to me”

Now the main dancer sang with a clear voice that wrapped the hall in warmth.

“You know, if I wrote all my thanks

There’d be twenty-three different things”

He’d pulled out a list of gratitude items and asked me, “Can I sing all twenty-three?” I teased that they’d need a NewBlack medley, and he pouted—but finally distilled it into a simple “thank you.”

After each brother shared a line, I raised the ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) main theme’s energy toward the chorus.

“After a long night

If your eyes become stars

And reach us”

For this, I wrote lyrics representing the group, beyond my personal feelings—starlight.

People often call celebrities “stars,” meaning they shine like stars in the sky, catching everyone’s gaze. But I see it differently: everyone’s light is the same; no one is special. A person shines only because many eyes look at them.

That’s what I wanted to say. “Starlight” as the title because, like eye light, when someone looks at you, their gaze makes you shine.

Together we sang the chorus:

“Keep it close

Our starlight

Remember

Our time”

With the lyrics so condensed, I wasn’t sure the message fully reached them—but I focused on the atmosphere. Verse 1, then verse 2.

By verse 3’s bridge, we rose and stood side by side with the brothers. Facing the fans, then each other, we sang.

At the end, our voices stacked into a harmony that spread in all directions, and we couldn’t help smiling.

I’d started worried about technical precision, but none of that mattered now: we’d created a song for the fans, and we could sing it here—that was enough.

Clearing my mind of complexity, I sang the lyrics with my brothers.

“...”

When the final note faded, we laughed in shared joy and then turned to face the audience.

Three seconds of silence.

Some tilted their heads in question—but then the house lights came up, and a wave swept across the seats as something sprouted everywhere.

“...?”

At first my eyes needed to adjust, black dots lingering like afterimages—but then I saw clearly.

My brothers and I burst into laughter together.

The fans had prepared a slogan event for us.

From the floor to the balcony, banners unfurled and countless smiles lit every face. Exchanging delighted smiles, we clasped hands with the brothers and bowed deeply.

“Thank you!”

It was a moment of happiness neither we nor the Soufflés would ever forget.

After the fan meeting, posts appeared on NewBlack’s official SNS and fan cafe from the members.

Photos showed NewBlack onstage and fans in the audience holding slogans.

@The_New_Black_Official

“Our first fan meeting, unforgettable. Thank you so much, we love you.”

Meanwhile, idol communities, fan cafes, and blogs flooded with fan meeting reviews.

Fans who couldn’t attend felt left out. ‘What was that?’ they wondered. They’d only heard about it—no fancams or photos yet.

They’d laughed about the disguised-silhouette talk. Praised Bijoo’s random-play dance for its beautiful lines. Liked the first official “Night Sea” duet. Heard the power dance in suits. And most of all, they heard how Woo­joo had played multiple instruments like a genius to sing the fan song.

–“What is it!? Why am I the only one left out? ㅠㅠ”

–“No... I want to hear it too ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ”

–“Gyuhwan, Gyuhwan, I’ll give you my hair—gimme the fan meeting video now”

–“I’m a Soufflé who went to the fan meeting...☆ Today was so happy... Sigh... If there was only one regret... that postcard... who makes exactly a thousand for a thousand people, Gyuhwan, seriously argh I’m so”

–“Deep rage kekekek”

–“ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ stream of consciousness”

–“I wish I could pull it from my head and save it to my hard drive..! The Gunflower cover was great, but really... that last beat drop was...”

–“Excitement shift kekekek”

That weekend of excitement continued. By Sunday afternoon, Lemon Ent’s top-floor office sat three men chatting softly: CEO Park Gyuh-ho, Head of Management, and Production Director Jo Gyu-hwan.

“Seok-tae, feel like ordering Chinese for lunch?”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Let’s get yusanseul and two gan jajang... Gyuhwan, what about you?”

“Pork-and-chive dumplings for me.”

The trio who’d been together since the company’s early days selected the menu, and the Head called the restaurant.

Meanwhile, CEO Park read the fan meeting revenue report with a satisfied smile.

“Record-breaking sales.”

“That’s why agencies focus on idols these days, sir. Managing actors for that kind of profit takes forever...”

The head of actors management praised the results, and Director Jo simply smiled.

Park said, “By the way, for our second album, foreign investors are showing interest. What do you think, Gyu-hwan?”

“Did they specify why they want to invest?”

“Well, Hallyu’s popular, and they want a stake in a promising group... but their intentions aren’t clear. Hard to ignore when the sums are so large.”

Hearing the figure, the Head’s jaw dropped. Jo calmly answered:

“I think we should decline.”

“Why?”

“Large sums without clear rationale are a noose. Overseas investors view us and the industry differently. If we pick the wrong partner, even the album’s concept could collapse.”

“Right... I refused for that reason myself.”

The CEO nodded, affirming his choice.

After discussing the company’s actors’ film, drama, and ad work, conversation circled back to NewBlack.

Director Jo opened, “About the choreography for album 2. We approached a famous foreign dancer, but the cost is a bit...”

“Money’s not the issue. How much?”

“Take a look.”

“Ten thousand, a hundred thousand, a million... ten million, a hundred million...”

“...”

“Gyu-hwan, is choreography usually that expensive?”

Jo nodded. “We could’ve paid less, but DNS’s next album eyed the same dancer...”

“Let me sign off on it.”

The payment completed immediately.

As budget items for NewBlack’s second album were approved one by one, CEO Park’s face paled as he tallied the totals in his head.

“...”

His hand trembling, he picked up the phone. “Should I call and remove the yusanseul?”

“It’s too late.”

“I’ll pay for it myself.”

The producer offered his wallet. While the CEO thanked him, Jo added quietly:

“Also, about NewBlack’s costumes...”

Meanwhile, on the second floor, NewBlack members laughed together at their work as preparations for the second album’s music video and outfits continued steadily in the top-floor office.