In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“Aw, you’re so prickly.”

After ending the call with my grandmother, I looked out the window and laughed.

It was 8 a.m.

The vehicle was speeding over Yeongjong Bridge toward Incheon Airport.

“Hey, hyungs! Look over there. A plane’s taking off!”

Ji-ho tapped my shoulder excitedly. A tiny dot was disappearing into the sky.

“Yeah, must be getting close to the airport.”

I humored him, “Wow!” but inside my mind was in turmoil.

We had to board a plane...

It wasn’t because of the pain over my parents’ accident. That happened long ago, and I’d cried enough. I no longer felt sorrow except a hollow ache when my brothers spoke of our parents.

But the fear engrained in me since childhood wouldn’t go away.

I’m terrified of planes.

I know the odds of an aviation accident are low—one in eleven million, even lower than being struck by lightning. Yet having personally experienced that one-in-eleven-million event, such odds offer no real comfort.

Well. Nothing bad will happen.

Nothing bad...

“Hyung, are you okay?”

Bi-ju looked at me with concern.

“You look a bit pale. You’re breaking out in a cold sweat.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

I wiped the sweat from the back of my neck and forced a smile.

“Must’ve gotten carsick looking at my phone.”

“Want me to apply some motion-sickness patch? I packed some just in case.”

“No, we’ll be there soon.”

Then Ri-hyuk set aside his Spanish phrasebook and leaned in.

“If something’s wrong, just say so. Your face looks like old flour.”

“My stomach’s just a bit queasy.”

“What can I do for you? Let me know if you need anything.”

“Well...”

I spoke with a pale face. Ri-hyuk looked at me earnestly. As I sensed tension around me, I grinned.

“Could you sing me a song?”

“Come on, hyung, you’re fine.”

He turned back to his phrasebook, embarrassed he’d worried.

They really were perceptive. Unlike those idiots sharing one earbud and playing games, these two had been watching me since yesterday. Also, in the passenger seat, Seok-hwan hyung had been checking me via the rearview mirror. When I sent him a hand-heart and winked, he shook his head as if helpless.

I was glad to have such caring people around me. Soon after we arrived at the airport, we had a variety-show shoot—and since it was our first overseas schedule, everyone was both nervous and excited. I didn’t want to worry them with needless concerns.

“Wow, it’s the airport!”

Incheon Airport came into view. The vehicle climbed the elevated roadway to the third-floor departures level and in no time stopped before Gate 10.

“So many people.”

Jung-hyun pointed out the window. Everywhere photographers’ “big guns”—reporters taking pictures and fans who’d come to see us.

While the younger members adjusted their outfits, I checked my reflection on my phone. My ability to mimic movements was still effective: my bright, radiant smile that lifted spirits by itself.

We stood at the crosswalk, waved, and smiled at the cameras. Won-seok hyung cleared a path ahead of us and we followed.

Inside the gate, cameras bearing the TBC logo and the show’s staff greeted us.

“Oh, they’re here!”

A genial-looking man waved.

“Hurry on over!”

“Hello, hello.”

We bowed to the three men and women, then stood to their left.

“Wow, so many people. No wonder you were called 2014’s Best Rookie.”

The man speaking was Yoo Chang-hyun. A former comedian, now appearing on various variety shows. He’d been invited today to bring energy to the “Pâtissier Korea” special.

“Pâtissier Korea” was a survival show that had aired late last year. It gathered pastry chefs who competed by showcasing their desserts—high ratings, they said. To capitalize on that popularity, TBC arranged a global tour special. The top five, who’d performed well, would open a pop-up café overseas with their mentors and serve menus they’d created. The point was to see how well-loved Korean desserts would be received abroad. We were to serve as the café’s temporary part-timers.

“Wow, are all these fans here for you?”

As the screen doors opened and the crowd surged in, Yoo Chang-hyun clicked his tongue. Passersby also whipped out their phones.

Of course, it wasn’t just us.

Among a group of hikers passing by, a mother in a pink jacket gave a thumbs-up and exclaimed,

“Chef Park, you look younger than on TV!”

“Thank you, ma’am. You look young too.”

A burly, broad-featured man in his forties laughed. This was Chef Park Jae-woo, the mentor on Pâtissier Korea, known for his handsome looks and deep culinary knowledge on cooking shows.

“Oh, I’ve seen that person—he won Pâtissier Korea, right?”

“Without his glasses, I can’t recognize him.”

Beside him stood a short, round-faced woman in her twenties—the show’s winner, Myung Se-jin—looking around awkwardly as if unfamiliar with being on camera.

With us, the crowd swelled even more.

“Shall we do introductions?”

“Yes—one, two, three! Hello! We’re NewBlack!”

We took turns greeting. As Yoo Chang-hyun skillfully warmed up the crowd, Chef Park and the winner played along.

Chef Park smiled.

“You’re all so handsome. I can’t tell who the visual member is.”

“You can’t tell?”

Ji-ho laughed and tapped his chest. The onlookers thought it cute and laughed, and Yoo Chang-hyun asked,

“Is Ji-ho the visual then?”

“Yes, I’m the visual of NewBlack. As you can see, I’m the best-looking.”

“Doesn’t seem like hyungs agree.”

While Ji-ho spoke, we shook our heads behind him in an X gesture. When he noticed, he graciously smiled and said,

“Isn’t Woo-joo the visual?”

“That’s right, sunbaenim. You’re spot on. This guy’s just so over the top, but he’s not at my level yet.”

“I am, though—personality included, I’m number one.”

Amidst our shock at the maknae’s diss, Chef Park and Myung Se-jin laughed. The atmosphere eased so quickly that Se-jin, who’d been quiet, recognized Jung-hyun.

“I saw that rhinoceros beetle meme!”

“A rhinoceros beetle?”

The winner explained to the hosts. Yoo Chang-hyun’s curiosity was piqued.

“That rhinoceros beetle pose! Could we see it again?”

“Ah, our manager said we can’t...”

Jung-hyun scratched his head, then declared,

“I’ll just do it and take the scolding.”

“Where’s your manager? Oh, there he is—your neck must be stiff.”

The camera panned to Seok-hwan hyung among the crowd, wearing a sad expression. Then Jung-hyun struck the beetle pose, turning the place into a sea of laughter. It was hilarious just to watch.

From that moment on, passersby calling “Oh, black goat!” “Da-gil?” began to gather. Riding that wave, we bantered and performed sillily in front of dozens of onlookers and cameras.

Our amiable growth-story kid, Ji-ho, also contributed to the fun vibe.

“By the way, are you two interested in idols? Do you know us?”

“No... I’m not too familiar with the entertainment world.”

“Me neither, idols aren’t my thing.”

The mentor and mentee stammered their answer, and Ji-ho beamed.

“Great! Then you’ll know us from now on. Hyungs, let’s sing for them.”

“Oh, shall we do a song?”

Seizing the impromptu promotional opportunity, I said,

“Since we’re here, we’ll even show you our choreography.”

“Love the passion! Okay, clear a bit of space.”

The crowd stepped back and we performed a short medley of Fireworks and Masquerade.

Yoo Chang-hyun asked,

“So, did you know these two chefs already?”

“Of course.”

I answered.

“We loved Pâtissier Korea.”

Hearing we were appearing on the special, I’d watched it eagerly whenever I had a chance at Director Jo’s house. Bi-ju, passionate about cooking, commented on dishes and we told the hosts what we found interesting. They were pleased by our knowledge of details they wouldn’t have expected.

As the opening wrapped up, Yoo Chang-hyun closed with,

“Anyway, we’ll be serving you as day workers in Taiwan. Any final aspirations?”

“We’ll work really hard.”

I answered with a smile.

“Please look forward to it.”

“By the way, I recently had a meal with the Who’s the Trainee members. When they talked about NewBlack, Hee-yeon got so excited—she said there’s an idol who works better than black oxen or yellow oxen.”

“Yes, that’s Woo-joo hyung.”

Our members proudly pointed to me, and I laughed resignedly.

“Production told me you speak Chinese too? I heard we won’t need an interpreter—is that right?”

“是。”

Answering in Chinese, I confidently shared my aspiration with the camera.

“Please watch us—we’ll show you how we work like oxen this time.”

After the opening shoot, we parted ways briefly with the TBC crew—because our flights were on different airlines.

“Maybe because it’s business class, but it’s so spacious.”

Ji-ho, sitting next to me, inspected his seat in wonder. The other younger members checked theirs and were pleased. These seats were courtesy of Cloud Air, the mid-tier airline we modeled for. The legroom was ample enough for our long limbs.

The problem was me.

“....”

I sat by the window with eyes closed, watching cargo trucks whirl by and planes taking off in the distance. My stomach churned. I felt like I had to rush to the restroom and vomit the morning’s toast.

My back against the seat and palms on the armrests, cold sweat soaked through my shirt, and my heart pounded like crashing waves in my ears.

It was chaos.

“-Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Cloud Air. Thank you for choosing our airline today.”

The captain’s announcement of imminent takeoff drifted through the cabin.

“Hyung, are you okay with motion sickness?”

Bi-ju called to me from the center seat across the aisle.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I raised my hand and forced a smile—but unlike before, it felt strained. When I smiled to signal I was okay, everyone relaxed.

“Um... never mind.”

Ri-hyuk opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. Jung-hyun, serene-faced, flipped through the safety booklet. They all seemed to sense my wish that they simply ignore my fear.

“Sigh.”

I took a deep breath, laid back, and unbuttoned a couple of shirt buttons as if to relieve the choking feeling of the cabin air.

I was worse off than I’d thought. I regretted not telling the manager. But it was too late now. I couldn’t get off and say I wanted to.

As I fidgeted, the plane began to taxi and my heart dropped.

“....”

With my eyes closed, news footage of childhood accidents and crash reports swirled in my mind. When open, everything around shimmered like a mirage. Normally a blessing, my ability felt cruel today.

Please.

Anything.

Like when I was under extreme tension at the showcase, I wanted any help—my power or something.

But unlike before, it remained silent. My stomach churned so badly I thought I might really puke. Then—

Click

An earbud slid into my left ear. The sudden sensation stunned me, as if my thoughts paused.

Ji-ho, holding out his phone and smiling brightly, said,

“I want to listen to music.”

“Ji-ho...”

My voice cracked.

“Yeah?”

“Shouldn’t it be off before takeoff?”

“It’s airplane mode, so it’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, hyung. Besides, I’m scared of takeoff—just listen with me.”

Before I could reply, he selected a song.

The melody of “Let’s fly away, just the two of us~” drifted as he hummed to himself. It was ridiculous—but somehow it calmed me.

Having one ear with the earbud felt like someone was holding my hand.

Then the plane accelerated. I gripped the armrests and closed my eyes.

This isn’t a plane. This isn’t a plane.

Each time the acceleration made my heart feel like it would burst, Ji-ho tapped me and chatted about how scared he was. Thanks to him, in no time the plane had soared into the sky before I could process it.

“Eh, what was that?”

Ji-ho said, disappointed.

“I was so tense because everyone scared me about takeoff—wasn’t it nothing?”

“...Yeah.”

“Let’s listen to music, okay?”

Clouds floated by the window and my mind settled. The tension that had wound me tight finally unraveled.

It was over.

I thought how lucky I was to have taken off without incident.

As I wiped sweat and relaxed, a face suddenly appeared at the clouded window.

It was the maknae’s face, peeking at me with concern.

When I turned, he was still smiling innocently, but somehow it felt like he understood.

“What should we listen to next, hyung? Something upbeat?”

“Anything.”

Grateful, I answered,

“Anything’s fine.”

I really didn’t care. I felt my eyes growing heavy.

I’d barely slept last night, and freed from extreme tension, my tired body demanded rest.

“I’ll close my eyes a bit...”

“Go ahead.”

“Uh, wake me when it’s time to eat...”

In an instant, I drifted off.

And I dreamed.

A beach I couldn’t even place.

A nondescript scene—seagull-like birds flying, a sky so clear I couldn’t tell morning from afternoon.

I stood on bright, sunlit sand—only I was small. My hands were like fern fronds, my gait clumsy. I didn’t know what age I remembered, but everyone around me looked like giants.

“Woo-joo.”

A warm voice. A woman’s voice.

My young eyes turned, but I couldn’t see her. Should’ve been clear, but like noise over the image, she was invisible. Yet I knew who she was.

This disembodied voice... our mother.

Her elegant sky-blue dress was the one she loved in photos.

“Woo-joo, Daddy got something fun. Shall we go see it together?”

“Something fun?”

I cocked my head and she scooped me up. The sea breeze carried her scent to my nose. In her arms, I stared at the ocean.

Then a handsome man in a shirt stood at the far end of the beach, waving at us with a bright smile. His face too was faint, like noise over the image.

Sun Myeong-joo—our father.

How I knew they were beautiful people I couldn’t say, but even by his stylish clothes I could tell.

“Woo-joo! Ta-da!”

He pointed to sticks planted in the sand.

“Daddy got you something amazing. Pretty cool, right?”

Mother laughed at her husband’s childlike excitement.

“You look more thrilled than our son.”

“Of course. I’ve been waiting so long to show this to Woo-joo.”

“It’s okay for a baby to see this, right? What if it messes up his eardrums...”

“It’s fine. Your mother said kids need to grow up tough. That’s why—oops! Sorry, sorry! I messed up!”

The conversation I didn’t understand as a child echoed. The couple, after teasing each other, finally embraced with me between them.

But my focus was the sticks.

What were those?

Father lit the end of one with a match and eagerly approached,

“Woo-joo, look. Soon it’ll fly up to the sky.”

Mother’s warm hands covered my soft little ears.

Then, with a boom, the stick expelled white smoke and fired something. A cluster of fireworks erupted with cries.

I blinked wide-eyed in surprise.

Above, fireworks traced beautiful blooms against the sky. With my finger in my mouth, I gaped in wonder.

Mother covered her mouth and said,

“Look at our son.”

“See? I told you he’d love it.”

It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever witnessed. A few beach fireworks might pale next to a grand show over the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» Han River.

But what mattered was that at that moment, with warm lips on my cheek, I heard the most beautiful words in the world:

“Mom and Dad love our Woo-joo more than anything.”

It was a lovely dream I hadn’t had in a very long time.