In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass, the tank glowed with an electric blue light. Between the three- and five-meter depths, today’s shoot would take place in the three-meter section. We swallowed hard as we peered down at the inky five-meter chasm below our feet.

“Seriously scary. Hyungs, did you see the bottom? It’s so dark—I feel like something could jump out at any moment.”

“It is a bit eerie.”

“Hyung, can we really film in there? I’m worried the others will freak out...”

As Bi-ju voiced his concern, Ri-hyuk’s face turned as white as a sheet and he backed away.

“Why are you like that?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“I’m not scared at all. Who do you take me for? I’d go in right now if—”

Ri-hyuk’s bravado died on his lips as we all fixed our gaze on him. The light of truth shone in his eyes. We all nodded. Meanwhile, I rubbed my goosebumped arms and admitted,

“I’ll admit it’s a little scary. We actually have to go in there and film.”

“Hyung, there’s really nothing in there, right?”

“Like what?”

“You know how in movies, suddenly a shark or a squid monster bursts out and grabs people with its tentacles...”

“Aah! Can’t hear you! Stop it!”

Ri-hyuk covered his ears and bolted, and Bi-ju hurried to steady him. I turned to our maknae, who was letting his imagination run wild, and reassured him,

“Don’t worry. If a monster appears, Junghyun will take care of it.”

“Me?”

“Yep.”

“Give me a second.”

Junghyun closed his eyes, calculated something in his head, then nodded firmly.

“I think I can handle it.”

“What on earth are you imagining, Junghyun?”

Had he pictured himself wrestling a fish-creature? Even so, I doubted it would beat him. In fact, more likely he’d become best friends with the monster and swim around the tank together... I shook my head, banishing the bizarre thought.

“Hey—there are people in there!”

The maknae pointed, and sure enough three or four divers were already in the water, each carrying an underwater camera. They flapped their fins with ease—our cinematographers.

“Hello,” we bowed, and one of the directors at the glass window gave us an encouraging “OK” gesture. They took their positions, checking angles as if following the storyboard to the letter. I scratched my cheek, thinking how much larger this production had become—and recalled our meeting.

In the Lemon Entertainment conference room, just after reservists’ training, we’d gathered to set the fan meeting date. I’d presented my proposals for our second mini-album.

“Our first album captured New Black’s overall group color. Starting with this album, why not spotlight each member’s individual color? We began with red, so next could be yellow, green, blue, purple, and so on.”

The idea—to roll out each member’s color across successive albums—drew a thoughtful stroke of the chin from Director Jo Tae-jun.

“Not bad. You could tie them together as a theme.”

Staff chimed in:

“Wow—long-term project. If purple’s the sixth, we’d finish in summer 2016.”

“But it’d be a solid marketing point.”

Friendly feedback, yet no outright approval—it was just to “consider.” But the next idea I pitched was adopted immediately:

“And relatedly, what if our music videos carried a continuous storyline?”

“Like other agencies do? A shared universe?”

“Not that kind of world-building.” I winced as memories of cringe-inducing idol lore flooded my mind—concepts that peaked at debut and promptly vanished.

Director Park Gyu-ho asked:

“Such a plan?”

“Yes. Rather than grandiose plots, I propose that each title video continue from the previous one—for example, picking up where Fireworks left off.”

“Ooh, that’s clever.”

Our first single was even titled First Chapter. We’d create a series of music videos that formed one ongoing narrative. Producers had asked for our ideas, and this was mine. Colleagues joked:

“Woo-joo, if you handle everything, what do we do?”

“Seriously, we’ll have to hire Woo-joo onto A&R.”

“No way—we’re hiring him ourselves.”

Amid laughter, somebody asked:

“But to link the MVs, what exactly do we add?”

Director Park, known as “the Midas touch,” scribbled in his notebook, then looked up and said:

“Let’s expand the scope. Not only link the MVs, but insert short film segments in between.”

“How’s our budget?” I asked.

“I’ll secure it. It may seem sudden, but it’s well worth it.”

He smiled. “I like this idea.”

The problem was that Director Park loved my idea too much.

“Hello!”

“Who...?”

“We’re the writers for the story film!”

Soon scenario writers had descended to interview us and draft the script. Before I knew it, I was staring at this vast, ominous tank—like a pool carved from a warehouse.

Ri-hyuk inspected the safety gear scattered around. Ji-ho and Bi-ju gazed into the turbulent, black-tinged surface as if expecting something to erupt from the depths.

“Up close, the water really does look black,” Ji-ho shivered.

“Don’t worry. They told us the depth’s only three meters where we are,” I reminded him.

“It’s still scary...”

I silently reviewed the storyboard’s shots in my mind as I stretched. Junghyun joined me, limbering up his limbs. I decided I’d keep my distance from him once we hit the water—his muscular frame always made me feel sore beside him.

Bi-ju whispered, “If you fall, make sure you separate from him.”

“I agree wholeheartedly.”

Under the safety officer’s guidance, we warmed up again. Despite thorough prep, my heart raced at the thought of filming underwater. In all my life, I never imagined I’d film submerged.

“Check your outfits one more time.”

“All good,” I replied. The only odd sensation was that my clothes from the Fireworks shoot felt snug—must be all the growth we’d had.

With Seok-hwan hyung, staff, and cameras positioned above and below the surface, we awaited the prop boat.

“There it comes—a boat!”

Divers in wetsuits pushed a weathered skiff to the edge. We climbed aboard, and the director raised his megaphone:

“Row about five meters, then fall in. I’ll give you the cue—try rowing once.”

“Yes.”

Junghyun gripped an oar and swished it once. The skiff shot almost silently forward like a motorboat. A hush fell.

“Woo-joo, want a turn?” the director asked.

“Sure, sir.” I nodded and took the oar—after all, I’d practiced rowing with Ri-hyuk’s vacuum cleaner at the dorm and watched multiple how-to videos. As I began to row, laughter rippled around.

“...?”

Why were they laughing?

[No matter how you look at it, these rookies are on their second lives. newblack]

By now you’d expect Woo-joo. 😄

This capture’s from Reality Ep. 8 during the story film shoot. The director told him to row the boat. Then Woo-joo rows like a 30-year veteran ferryman. 😂

Crew cracked up on set.

Online, people joked they’d practiced “old man boat rowing.” The funny thing? He was so earnest, his expression followed the style.

– “So dignified 😂”

– “These guys... this is how you row a boat~!”

– “Fans are calling them The Old Man and the Sea.”

– “LOL Old Man and the Sea 😂”

– “Director’s line was funnier: ‘Let’s just use a magic «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» boat that moves without oars.’”

– “But he does it well 😂”

– “If he makes that face I want the vacuum...”

– “Post the before and after! Junghyun’s motorboat shot was hilarious 😂”

– “Their reality show is funnier than most variety shows now.”

– “Yup collecting newblack GIFs. Handsome but hilarious, so cute.”

Whoosh— the tank was transformed into a raging sea. Above, sprinklers released droplets like rain; below, jet washers churned the water into waves.

“Aaah!” “There’s too much water!”

Since the audio wouldn’t be used, the director encouraged us to scream.

“Arggh! I swear I won’t go near water for the next ten years!”

“Ri-hyuk, you still need to shower!”

“Right! Haha, I always scoffed at the waves in One Piece—didn’t know they were so terrifying!”

“No-no! This isn’t the ocean!”

“Woo-joo hyung, I... cough... drank too much...”

“It’s okay, I did too!”

Amid the chaos on the rocking skiff, Junghyun remained perfectly still, practicing his acting. The director had asked him specifically for serious drama, so he muttered to himself:

“I’m in a dire situation right now.”

We tried not to laugh, often inhaling water through our noses. Our time on the boat was brief: once it reached the mark, it gently capsized, and we all plunged into the tank.

White bubbles tickled our eyes, and when we opened them the world was an aquamarine blur. Our ears rang, and distant machines hummed through the water.

One... two... three...

We thrashed briefly, then relaxed our limbs and adopted a serene expression, as if in peaceful slumber. Honestly, it was frightening—even at three meters deep, the yawning five-meter abyss loomed menacingly. Something would surely emerge from there. Yet when Seok-hwan hyung later told me today’s shooting budget, all fear dissolved—money was scarier. So we performed our best underwater.

“Phew... phew...”

With divers’ help, we surfaced and exhaled deeply. Holding our breath had been surprisingly manageable—our profession demands strong lung capacity. Even Ri-hyuk, pale as a sheet, was breathing calmly.

“Great job, everyone!” Staff offered us blankets. We shed our waterlogged jackets and wrapped ourselves in warmth; damp towels warmed our heads.

“Brrr, I’m cold.”

“Me too.”

“Stop clinging so much, you blanket ghosts.”

“Don’t be so heartless—stay close, hyung.”

Wet and bedraggled, we huddled like a penguin colony. Initially, I’d shooed them away, but the shared warmth felt unexpectedly cozy.

“Guys!” Director Yoo beckoned. The five of us, wrapped in blankets, trudged over and squat beside him. On the monitor, our footage played:

“Overall, excellent. Ji-ho and Woo-joo, no notes on your acting—it was flawless.”

“Thank you!” Ji-ho grinned and gave me a mini high-five.

The director pointed at us floating against the blue backdrop:

“Bi-ju and Ri-hyuk were good too. Especially Ri-hyuk—your terrified expression was so real.”

“...Thanks,” we smiled, knowing the truth, as he tapped the screen:

“But the issue is Junghyun...”

The light mood plunged.

“Junghyun stands out a bit too much.”

“Which part should we adjust?” Junghyun asked, earnest.

“Not adjust, per se, but your tone doesn’t match. Everyone else is scared, serious—yet you appear serenely calm, almost detached. Underwater, you look too peaceful.”

“I see.”

“It’s not bad as is, but it feels a bit... off.”

I lost count of the takes, but this was our most important shot. As the crew prepared the next scene, I flipped through the wet storyboard, mind fuzzy from the cold and the ringing in my ears. All I could think was I wanted a hot cocoa.

Then Assistant Director Jo spoke up:

“How about this?”

He described a new idea, and we all nodded. It fit perfectly. There was just one question:

“Junghyun, can you swim well?”

All eyes turned to our rapper. Calmly, he nodded:

“Yes. I can.”