In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The soufflés gazed at the stage.

‘What could the surprise gift be?’

During the Q&A, Woo-joo had said they’d prepared a surprise gift for these fans.

He’d promised it would be quite fun, so the fans’ anticipation soared to the sky.

In the darkened auditorium everyone stamped their feet.

‘I can’t wait to see it.’

They felt like snatching the box, tearing off the wrapping, to find out what it was.

And whatever it was, they were sure they’d be moved.

Even if he handed over a handful of sand saying “It’s my heart,” they’d fill a glass jar with it and sob.

What mattered was that NewBlack had specially prepared a gift for them.

Ta-at!

At last the lights brightened.

‘Where are the other members?’

Fans tilted their heads at the sight on stage.

Woo-joo sat alone on a chair with a guitar slung over his shoulder.

But their confusion didn’t last long.

They saw his sweat-drenched hair in disarray and one earpiece dangling on his shoulder.

Everyone craned their necks like giraffes, murmuring.

“...”

All this time Woo-joo had closed his eyes.

‘...What is he doing?’

The fans held their breath as they watched.

He nodded slightly or tapped his shoe toe against the stage, as if listening to music.

But there was no sound at all.

“...?”

Everyone tilted their heads.

They already knew Woo-joo was peculiar.

They knew he had innate musical talent.

But did he really need to stage something grand before a simple guitar performance?

Some thought “Just start playing,” but most grinned at the sight of his deep breaths on the screen.

Then, the singer opened his eyes.

He smiled at the audience and gently moved his fingers.

‘What song is this?’

The acoustic guitar released an unfamiliar melody.

Each time Woo-joo brushed the strings, a quiet, beautiful tone resonated.

The fans were soon drawn into the impromptu performance.

‘I feel like I’ve heard this somewhere, yet not really. It’s so elusive.’

The melody felt familiar but hard to pinpoint, like a cityscape painting with every landmark from different countries all in one frame.

‘What song is this?’

One thing was certain.

This performance was part of some larger song.

Like the pretty corner piece of a puzzle.

As everyone fell into thought listening, Woo-joo finished and let his hands drop.

Then he turned his gaze to the audience.

“Were you surprised all of a sudden?”

At the singer’s playful remark, the fans relaxed into comfortable smiles.

“I know you were shocked when I suddenly came up and started playing guitar. You saw me nodding like I was lost in it before I even began.”

Woo-joo smiled.

“Sorry about that. I intended to tell you what I was about to play first, but then I realized this would be more fun. I hope you understand?”

The fans smiled warmly.

How could they not understand when he smiled like that?

Woo-joo tapped the guitar body and began to explain.

“As you just heard...”

“You heard it, right? Music is heard with the ears.”

Ri-hyuk’s voice made the fans burst into laughter.

Seizing the moment, they began to tease the members waiting backstage.

“Acting all cool in front of fans. He’s still Zhen-min.”

“Right, Woo Zhen-min.”

“Zhen-min ahhhh~~~”

Mimicking a voice changer, someone teased playfully and the fans roared.

Woo-joo’s face turned slightly red.

“Well...”

“Hurry up and explain, Zhen-min. We want to go up.”

“Ha-o! Ha-o!”

“Sound director? Please cut these rude noises.”

At Woo-joo’s throat-cut gesture, the stray voices immediately fell silent.

Woo-joo smiled contentedly.

“This is great. Oh, no, that’s not it. Uh... where was I? Ah. As you noticed, the piece you just heard is part of a song.”

He continued.

“Before coming here, my brothers and I discussed in Korea what surprise gift to prepare for you. Should we cover the OST of that popular Taiwanese film? Or sing our fan song ‘Starlight’...”

When he mentioned “Starlight” before it came up, cheers erupted, and Woo-joo smiled sheepishly.

“Yes, we thought about translating and performing the lyrics of ‘Starlight,’ but I felt that alone might be a bit dull.”

The fans tilted their heads.

It didn’t sound dull at all...

But Woo-joo clearly had something else in mind.

“So I wanted to add a special melody.”

“...?”

“When I wandered the night market the first day—yes, that was during the Wu Zhen-min interview—I listened closely to the songs playing there. I wanted to know what songs are trending in Taiwan, what people like.”

He analyzed the structure of Taiwanese hits and interpreted his impressions in his own way.

“...”

As the fans looked puzzled at the singer, a more astonishing fact emerged.

He’d closed his eyes before playing to calculate how the improvised melody would blend into “Starlight.”

‘So....’

He’d been silently replaying “Starlight” in his head while improvising on the guitar.

“...?”

At first it sounded odd, but then the intro to “Starlight” began to play.

“Now it’s going to blend in here.”

At the same moment, the melody Woo-joo had just played wove seamlessly into “Starlight.”

When everyone’s jaws dropped, Woo-joo beckoned backstage.

“Come up, guys.”

As the NewBlack members cheerfully bounded onstage and lined up, the fans felt dazed.

Woo-joo’s guitar melody and “Starlight” had become perfectly one.

It sounded even better than before.

A great song transformed with a melody optimized for the local fans.

The Taiwanese soufflés stared at the stage in a daze.

‘Is this even possible?’

They couldn’t fathom how anyone could pull this off in so little time.

It was like witnessing a mysterious being beyond their understanding.

Then Woo-joo laughed and grabbed the mic.

“For you, we prepared a version of ‘Starlight’ you can only hear here. Please enjoy it.”

To the song’s melody, the soufflés gently waved their glow sticks.

And everyone there shared the same thought.

‘This is the best gift ever.’

They knew they’d never forget today’s performance, even decades from now.

With “Starlight” as the finale, the showcase ended in a fiery atmosphere.

At the same time, we boarded the plane back to Korea, concluding our three-day Taiwanese promotion.

“Ugh...”

Our bodies ached all over.

As on the way here, we settled into business class seats on Cloud Airlines, for which we model.

Our heads throbbed, and muscle pain plagued us.

“When we get to Seoul, we have to rest, hyungs.”

“Let’s do that. Really.”

“I want to go to a bathhouse.”

Our exhausted brothers slumped around us.

A passing flight attendant suppressed a laugh at the sight of a convoy of handsome squids performing courtship dances.

Normally we’d manage our image, but we were too worn out to care.

The managers closed their eyes and leaned back, and the stylists and makeup artists had already dozed off.

Yet despite the fatigue, relief showed on everyone’s faces.

Through the dark window we saw cargo trucks and the glowing airport, then I turned to Ri-hyuk beside me.

He was intently writing with a pen.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m listing things to do when we get to Seoul. There are quite a few impressions I... Ah, what are you staring at?”

“Hey, I’m not staring.”

“But you are.”

“No, I’m not. That’s lame and I refuse to look.”

...Though I pouted, I was secretly amused as I peeked at his notes about “finding the brand names of the hotel’s disposable shampoo,” and so on.

Normally Ri-hyuk would’ve blasted me for that, but perhaps the joy of returning to Korea made him more lenient.

Ji-ho leaned from the seat in front.

“I guess people really should live where they’re used to. I never thought I’d miss the dorm this much.”

“True. Korea rules.”

We nodded at Jung-hyun, who munched jelly.

Time with Taiwanese fans and exploring Taipei had been fun, but there’s nothing like home.

After three days we were wildly homesick for Korea.

“And there are two crucial things missing here.”

“What?”

“Kim Deok-soon and our studio.”

“We called grandma every night, didn’t we?”

“Video quality is different.”

When I complained about video call quality, my brothers shook their heads.

“And I need to make songs for Album 3 soon. I have fun working with the A&R team, after all.”

“Hyung, about that...”

Jung-hyun asked with a serious face,

“Shouldn’t we ask the A&R team if it’s really fun working with them?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Um... nothing, hyung.”

“Don’t say weird things, Jung-hyun. I treat the A&R team so well—I even got them souvenirs. They like me.”

“Um, wait.”

Ri-hyuk raised his hand to interrupt me.

He took out earplug cases and popped bright orange plugs into his ears.

“...?”

Ri-hyuk grinned and said,

“Keep talking. I can’t hear you now.”

“I hate you.”

“Can’t hear that either. Say more.”

“I hate you.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.”

As Ri-hyuk teased me with a smug grin, my brothers clapped and laughed.

“...Wait a minute.”

When did my authority as the eldest brother vanish like this?

No—did I ever have it?

I thought back: when I first met them, I used to act like a hyung and strike a pose. I don’t know when it changed.

Now they treat me so casually. Are they the odd ones?

Back in my TJ Entertainment days I had that powerful charisma—

“—sir?”

A mocking voice of a TNT debut member drifted by and I waved it off.

Ahem.

Anyway, it wasn’t the ideal leader image I’d dreamed of.

But between the two, I preferred this.

I’d rather they treat me like an equal than look up to me from afar.

That was my takeaway from this overseas schedule.

Unlike the anxious early days of debut, our more grown-up members now extended their hands as equals—and that felt good.

And then...

“Oh, I think the plane is taking off.”

At Ji-ho’s remark, my brothers sprang into coordinated action.

“Hyung, here—want to listen to music?”

Bi-ju offered an MP3 player.

“Uh... there’s an extra neck pillow... here... you... uh... Woo-joo hyung, wear this... want it?”

Jung-hyun, in a dramatic overact, popped a dinosaur-printed pillow around my neck.

“When we get to Seoul, let’s go shopping for clothes, hyung. Seriously. I saw comments on the airport fashion article—someone said I look like grandma going out for tea.”

“...What?”

Ji-ho deliberately switched to nonsense to change the subject.

As the plane barreled down the runway, Ri-hyuk peered at me from beside his earplugs.

Their thoughtful gestures, however awkward, made me smile.

I realized our relationship had changed.

It wasn’t me leaning on them alone now—I could lean on them too.

And because of that, their caring attention and clumsy help felt welcome.

“....”

Perhaps that’s why this takeoff was bearable.

Unlike the panic last time, now I only broke out in a cold sweat.

I was still scared.

And I thought this part wouldn’t be easily solved in the future.

Trauma is stubborn.

But knowing I didn’t have to pretend to be fine in front of my brothers gave me some relief.

Clunk!

As the plane took off and soared into the sky, I opened my eyes, which I’d squeezed shut gripping the armrests.

My brothers had turned away, doing their own things to spare me embarrassment.

“Here.”

Ri-hyuk pointed to my face and handed me a napkin—worried I might cry again.

“Thanks, but I’m okay.”

“Huh?”

“Is that napkin for tears?”

“What are you talking about? It’s for wiping your mouth.”

“...?”

When I wiped my mouth, saliva trickled onto the napkin.

“...”

I turned my head and saw my own sad face in the window.

How long had I been asleep?

I woke up feeling thirsty.

Wuuuush.

My ears were clogged, and I saw the wing slicing through dark clouds outside.

Everyone else lay slumped with neck pillows.

I smiled softly at Jung-hyun, who wore an anti-snore device and breathed gently, then glanced at Ri-hyuk.

He was busy writing again.

“...What are you doing?”

“I’m writing lyrics.”

“Oh, that.”

Suddenly I remembered keywords floating in my mind: Album 3, Bi-ju’s song.

When Bi-ju and I were preparing Album 3, at Director Cho’s house we created a song, and Ri-hyuk heard it.

He asked if he could write the lyrics, so I entrusted them to him—and apparently he was working on them now.

“You should be tired—just sleep. Finish them in Korea.”

“I can’t sleep. Too many unfamiliar people around, the plane’s noisy. You know I’m sensitive when I sleep.”

He gave me a mischievous catlike look, and I laughed.

“So will the lyrics be done?”

“Almost done. Ah...! But don’t look yet.”

“When will you show me?”

“When they’re complete. Just wait a bit more. They’ll be done by landing time.”

“Like you’re a poet aiming for a spring literary contest.”

“...This is a careful process.”

Stretching, I asked,

“Then at least tell me the theme.”

“The theme is ‘Invisible Things.’”

“Invisible things?”

“It struck me during the fan signing and showcase. Things happening where we can’t see them. Honestly, we never even dreamed of overseas fans.”

“That’s true.”

“But someone was watching and waiting for us where we couldn’t see them.”

Ri-hyuk’s smile tugged at his lips as he thought of the fans.

“Then I got the idea: ‘Even when you feel lonely and alone, someone unseen cares for you.’ I want to write comforting lyrics like that.”

“It fits Bi-ju’s melody. It feels hopeful.”

I admired Ri-hyuk’s idea, then my gaze halted at the title in the middle of his notes.

“So the theme is things that exist even if you can’t see them?”

“Right.”

“Things you can’t see but are there.”

“Yes.”

“I have to ask—are you seriously going to title it ‘Dark Matter’?”

“Why?”

“...”

“Isn’t that perfect? A substance that truly exists in the universe where we live but can’t be seen.”

“Uh...”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

He looked at me so innocently—as if I were the one outlandish—that my head ached.

Rely on them, heh...?

If I left the group to these guys, everything would surely fall to pieces.