In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“Ah... hello.”

“Uhm. Hello.”

We exchanged awkward greetings with Street Boys. Everyone looked embarrassed, eyes darting around for somewhere to focus. But unlike usual, there was no conversation. It wasn’t due to the awkwardness. It was because ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) of Director Park on their side, narrowing his eyes at us. If this were anything other than a broadcaster-ordered joint stage, he’d never tolerate Street Boys getting along with us.

We simply gave a brief wave.

‘Fighting!’

I pumped my fist, and Hanjo smiled back.

After they slipped from view, we dropped all pretenses.

“Aaah, it’s freezing, freezing!”

“It’s so cold!”

The weather was brutal. December 31st. Today was the live broadcast of the TBC Year-End Music Festival closing out 2014. Our schedule was simple: perform a one-minute cut of the 2:30 “Masquerade” stage, then around 11:55 we’d all mount the stage again to ring in the New Year bells. Nothing special—except the venue was outdoors in front of TBC’s Sangam building.

“Huh...”

Every exhale from our mouths and noses billowed like pale ghosts. Even huddled tight like penguins, we were at a loss from the cold. With each breath, our sinuses cleared and our nasal membranes felt like they were freezing solid.

Jiho groaned.

“If only I could punch my past self for thinking an outdoor stage would be fun.”

“It’s not too late—Jiho, smack yourself.”

The maknae glared at me. In any case, we were shivering because we’d won the outdoor slot at Sangam’s special stage. No wonder Hantaehyun teased us nonstop yesterday.

Miserable Director [text]: Outdoor? hahahaha

Miserable Director [text]: lolololol outdoor!

He said it beat Imjingak (which he’d visited as a rookie), but imagining him back at Ilsan laughing made my stomach twist.

“Waaaah!”

A distant cheer rose from the crowd. The FD who’d been eyeing us beckoned.

“New Black, standby.”

“Yes!”

Bijoo, sniffling, said,

“Hyung, my nose is running—what do I do?”

“Me too.”

“Mine too, I think.”

I nodded and offered a clear solution.

“Tilt back.”

“Yes.”

All five of us tilted our heads back, snuffing our dribbles back in. We looked at each other, smiles creeping across snot-smudged faces. We ignored Hyung Mingi’s strangled chuckle and beamed triumphantly.

“How’s that? Better?”

“Well, it’s not pretty, but it does the job.”

Then...

“Manager, why are you filming this?”

Manager Wonseok, capturing our every move on a handheld cam, answered:

“Director Park said, ‘These kids’ daily lives are sitcom gold. Film it all and upload it.’ ”

“That’s a problem—um, sorry, but please cut the snot scene in editing.”

“Deputy Producer Byun—the ones we love, right?” he cooed at the camera.

Suddenly, the FD signaled us: “You’re on next!” We exchanged grins to thaw our cheeks. OK, not bad. Time to face the crowd.

At that moment, live across the nation, New Black stepped onto the outdoor stage of the TBC Year-End Festival. Five idols with snow-white skin, like flowers blooming in the bitter cold. Each breath exhaled a plume of mist. We waved lightly to the audience and called out,

“Happy New Year!”

A small sniffle at the end, and the crowd smiled. On the live chat, fans everywhere chuckled:

– Cute

– Like handsome steamed buns... so pale

– Ubba’s friend is still so stupid

– They look like snowmen shivering in the cold

After a one-second shot of our fluffy white breaths, the music blared and we launched into the “Masquerade” choreography. Comments flooded:

– What a contrast

– From babies to oppas in a switch

– Like a snot robot flipping a switch with the music

Fans beamed at the screen. When the camera caught close-ups of our smiling faces or our misty breaths reaching out, they clenched their fists:

‘Now... the chorus!’

We waited in anticipation, but then... the camera cut to a full shot that included the audience, turning us into tiny handsome ants.

– Ugh.

– Camera director, please... urgent

– Love the helicopter shot at the chorus—I’m fuming

– Even a satellite could see them better than this

Yet anger faded fast. Immediately after our stage ended, the VCR began. In the corridor, two rookie boy groups in uniforms appeared. The switch from outdoor to VCR caught viewers’ attention.

– Oh, the rookie joint stage I guess

– Uniform concept...?

– Feels like school manga vs. romance comic

– New Black looks so harmless lol

– Even kindergartners wouldn’t steal from them

– Hey guys... they did their best

While jokes flew, a dynamic soundtrack played. Shots alternated between Street Boys and New Black marching toward each other, tense and determined. Leaders stepped forward, setting the scene for our short VCR lines:

“Got confidence?” “Try me.”

It was a captivating teaser.

– The lines are cheesy but the vibe is on point

– Good, but something’s missing... I expected Woo-ju to crack a joke here

– Woo-ju’s grown up...

– It’s prerecord, though lol

Then the live stage lit up again and the prerecord rolled on TV. Praise followed immediately—2:13 including VCR was enough to seize every eye. Above all, the music was great: a ’90s track seamlessly remixed in 2010s style. A classic remains a classic. Viewers briefly scanning channels or checking phones snapped back to the screen, ears pricking.

Street Boys’ rap filled the stage, New Black joined center; families in their living rooms recognized the songs:

“That’s Pae.”

“No, that’s Sunshine.”

“It’s Pae—you didn’t hear the intro?”

“I did... Sunshine, though...”

They argued until the second half, when both songs blended perfectly into one—it was that flawless. Combined with our hard-earned performance, it felt like a unified fourteen-member group. Only complaint: the ending arrived too soon. Just as the finale hit, the leaders leaned back-to-back, drew deep breaths, and reached to the camera.

– What, already over..?

– Done?

– Could’ve used more time, right??

– Yeah, felt too short for that quality

Even casual viewers craved more. Yet both fandoms felt those echoes without comment. Reading comments from their sofas, families nodded.

“They’re pretty good.”

“Those old songs were the best—it’s chaos these days.”

“But it ended so fast. Is it always like this?”

Though ’90s covers had appeared recently, none drew such reaction. One thing was clear: among Part 1’s covers, New Black and Street Boys delivered the most crowd-pleasing stage.

Backstage at Sangam, Director Park, watching Street Boys, checked his phone. The comment feed popped up:

‘...Reception is amazing.’

Every idol community praised the joint stage. He remembered when he’d told Lemon Ent’s Director Yoon that discussion wouldn’t matter. If the kids brainstormed, what could come of it? He’d been skeptical when they said they’d held joint meetings.

‘Well, it worked this time...’

But Lemon Ent’s own approach wouldn’t suit others. This strategy only works for a rookie group capable of self-producing.

“Ah, Director Park.”

As if summoned, Yoon Seok-hwan approached smiling. After a brief exchange, they discussed the joint stage. Yoon asked, “How did you like it?”

“It was great. The way they came together center stage... from the arrangement to the dance, especially the choreography.”

His meaning was clear: it worked, but only New Black could do that. Yet Yoon chuckled.

“That wasn’t our members.”

“Pardon?”

“The choreography. Sure, New Black handled the music, but the performance ideas—Street Boys delivered most of those suggestions.”

“...What?”

“All those elements you praised—they were Street Boys’ ideas.”

Park stared blankly until Street Boys returning backstage noticed and froze.

“Did we mess up?”

“No, not at all.”

As the nine burst away in relief, Park hesitated, then called out,

“Hey, you guys.”

They turned, curious. He continued slowly, “That idol show you’ll do in two weeks—”

“Yes, Director?”

“I asked them to make the stage special.”

“...?”

“If you have any ideas, discuss among yourselves. I’ll pass them to the choreographer.”

Silence. The nine blinked at each other, then bright smiles broke out.

“Yes! We will!”

“Well, just this once.”

His warning didn’t matter—Street Boys beamed.

What good news? From afar, Street Boys signaled their joy and gratitude to us. We glanced at each other.

“What do you think it is?”

“Seems like a thank-you message.”

“Let’s all give a ‘You’re welcome’ face.”

We nodded at the maknae’s suggestion and flashed grins showing our upper teeth.

This heartwarming scene didn’t last—soon the stage cast obscured us.

It was 11:55. Five minutes remained until 2015.

“We’re going up!”

The MCs, rushed from Ilsan, ascended the stage. We stepped back into the wings, sniffling, stomping our feet against the cold. The MC took a deep breath and said,

“Which artists born in the Year of the Sheep can come out? Please say a word.”

Seniors born in 1991 began wishing everyone a good year. Jiho whispered,

“Hyung, happy new year in advance.”

“You too.”

“Hope everything goes well.”

Thanks, maknae. He whispered,

“So I can tag along too.”

That was so on-brand. I draped my arms around the three shivering juniors and whispered,

“Happy New Year, my brothers.”

“And to you, hyung.”

“Let go—keep the luck.”

After warm New Year’s wishes, we awaited the bell at Imjingak. Excited, I thought, Grandma Kim must be watching this on TV. Maybe we’d appear— I smiled at the camera. Bijoo whispered,

“Hyung, let’s make a wish when the bell rings.”

“Sure.”

The countdown echoed around: Ten, nine, eight...

Drrrrring—

The New Year bell tolled across the night sky.

Fzzzz—

As the clock struck twelve, fireworks burst upward. Colorful sparks painted spectators’ eyes.

“This is it! 2015, the Year of the Sheep!”

“Happy New Year!”

Amid the celebration, we clasped our hands, closed our eyes, and made our wish:

May 2015 flow just as wonderfully as this year.

When the fireworks subsided, I remembered my second wish and quickly added,

Please—no embarrassing moments next year!

We shared light embraces. The MC, darting among the artists, turned to Andrew.

“Andrew, could you share a word in Chinese for the New Year?”

But he misread his cue and faced me. The MC’s expression froze in shock. Nearby artists tittered; my juniors blinked. In that moment, I knew what to do. I grabbed the mic with a cheerful grin.

“Hello, we’re New Black, the rookie group who aspires to be like Senior Andrew. Nice to meet you.”

Behind me, the juniors did shoulder shimmies. Andrew, the Daydream members, surrounding artists and the audience burst into laughter. The MC smiled in relief.

The moment was lighthearted, but we kept it brief—just one verse.

“In 2015, may you be filled with joy and laughter. Thank you!”

As we bowed with happy smiles, the surrounding crowd cheered and gave us thumbs-up. It was a delightful way to begin the New Year.