In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

After singing the final chorus, we lowered our microphones and a wave of relief washed over us.

We had been tense, worried we might make a mistake, but thankfully the stage was coming to a safe end.

“Whew...”

I took a deep breath and held onto the emotion until the very last note. We didn’t know which faces the cameras would capture for the ending shot, so we all maintained calm expressions, even though our hearts were pounding.

Every singer who gives a great performance knows better than anyone how well they did. In that sense, we knew we had pulled out everything we could today. Sure, there were a few minor regrets, but given the shaky conditions and our position last in the lineup, it was a perfect stage.

When the music stopped completely:

“Waaaaah–!”

Thunderous cheers and applause erupted from the audience. Looking here and there, people were enthusiastically clapping and cheering for us.

“Thank you so much!”

Amid the continued applause, we all bowed to the audience. We turned to the live band, who had given such a passionate performance, and bowed in thanks. We hugged lightly among ourselves and patted each other’s shoulders. No words were needed. After nearly two weeks of sleepless practice and a flawless stage tonight, we exchanged glances of encouragement. Then, still to applause, we greeted the audience once more.

“Thank you again!”

Only then did we finally relax and exhale. As we removed our in-ear monitors or brushed our hair back, we wiped away the sweat that had trickled down.

While the judges whispered among themselves, the celebrity panelists burst into chatter.

“Ji-ho! Auntie’s crying!”

At someone’s shout, laughter bubbled up. Our maknae responded with a cute finger-heart gesture, prompting cheers and laughter from the audience. Compliments poured in immediately.

“Oh my, how could this be? Everyone was so good.”

“For a moment I thought of my mom.”

“I was totally spaced out watching. At first I was like ‘Huh? Look at them,’ and then I fell completely in. I thought the maknae was just cute, but he had a hidden punch!”

A panelist so excited he spit as he spoke, and everyone nodded in agreement. Even Bang Mun-su, the self-proclaimed “idol expert,” stood up and shouted.

“See? I told you! I said NewBlack was the frontrunner for first place.”

He spoke as if regretting not betting on it.

“Aigo, what a waste. I should have made a bet!”

“Mun-su, that’s tacky.”

“No, hyung. What I mean is... anyway! NewBlack, keep your promise to ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) me! Come on our show!”

It was K-Net’s “Show! Show! Show! Idol High School,” I believe. With half-joke, half-serious offers of invitations, I took the mic and responded.

“Yes, we’ll definitely come.”

“As soon as the word ‘invitation’ came up, your expression changed. Now I see why you were called last year’s rookies. Your eyes are shining.”

“I’ve been studying your physiognomy, and I see ambition galore~”

Though said in jest, that was exactly the look we gave: “Thanks for the invite, we’ll work like beasts.”

As the panelists exaggerated their praise of our singing, someone called out to another panelist.

“Yoon-soo, what do you think?”

“Uh...”

“You’re the only rookie idol here, you must see something.”

From the panel, Yoon-soo of Fantanis—who debuted last November and whom we’d met on music shows—smiled awkwardly. When we met his gaze, he lifted the mic.

“Honestly, I don’t even know what to say. We’re both rookies, but... should I say you don’t feel like rookies? When you all sang those harmonies together, I literally got chills.”

Clearly impressed, his face said “You guys are amazing,” and we nodded our thanks.

Next, the current singer TheMoon was called.

“TheMoon, what do you think? This was a ballad, right?”

TheMoon, a ballad vocalist with a sharp nose bridge, addressed the other panelists.

“I was honestly surprised watching. My first thought was, ‘Ah, these guys know how to perform.’ I was like ‘Wow... how do they sing like that?’ I was truly amazed. At my age, I couldn’t reach those emotions.”

The celebrity panelists nodded in agreement. TheMoon asked us:

“How old are the members, by the way?”

“I’m twenty-three this year. The others are a year or two younger than me.”

Light laughter came from the audience. The panelists seemed amused by my phrase “the others.”

Then Bi-ju took the mic and answered.

“Jung-hyun and I are twenty-one.”

Ri-hyuk and Ji-ho each introduced their ages.

“I’m nineteen.”

“I’m eighteen.”

When TheMoon heard their ages, his mouth dropped open.

“What? You’re only in high school?”

“Yes.”

“Yup.”

“How... can you capture those emotions? In a song like ‘Insaeng’?”

Ri-hyuk grabbed the mic and answered.

“Before singing, we analyze carefully. We imagine the emotional line and make notes. We ask people around us who’ve experienced more of life what certain feelings are like...”

That’s right. Last time they asked me which emotion would suit that part of “Insaeng”...

“Huh?”

Blinking, I reached for the mic.

“Wait, Ri-hyuk. You asked me about the emotions last time, right?”

“Oh.”

He froze.

“Are you... the one who asked just now...?”

“...”

“...Answer me. It wasn’t me, was it?”

As the main vocalist averted his eyes, the panelists and audience burst into laughter. Someone joked:

“Is Woo-joo a little old soul?”

While my younger members nodded intently like mad nutcrackers, I wore a baffled expression. The audience clapped with laughter. The panelists teased me: “Right, you arranged it perfectly, so it makes sense,” and I forced a bittersweet smile. I had wanted to cultivate the image of “fresh rookie idol leader” here, but it was already lost.

Resigned, I smiled and looked around at the panelists and audience.

...Where did the teacher go?

After the song ended, he’d stepped away, and I really wanted to see his expression. Just then, the MC strode back onto the stage.

“Well, that was a stage full of twists and turns! I was truly surprised watching it.”

Announcer Baek Sang-jung smiled and asked:

“Shall we hear the judges’ evaluations now?”

The judge panel—composer Pyo Hyung-won, Jo Eul-sun, and famous ballad singer Lim Sung-hee—came into view.

“NewBlack’s performance of Noh Jae-hyun’s ‘Insaeng.’ What did you think, judges?”

“No need for long talk.”

Pyo Hyung-won, with a cool demeanor, set down his pen and said:

“If I had to cast one vote today, I would vote for this stage without hesitation.”

High praise. The audience roared in response. We covered our mouths and looked at each other. We couldn’t stop our smiles from spreading.

The MC asked:

“Composer Pyo, I recall you said the same about Cha Woo-hyun’s stage earlier.”

“Uh...”

Pyo paused, then raised a finger.

“That’s why we need a two-vote system. The only flaw of this show is we can only cast one vote.”

Like a sly fox, his answer prompted cries of “Right, what a pity!” and “They were all so good...” on the audio feed.

Pyo continued his critique:

“When I heard the intro, I was stunned. It was complete and well-built. Above all, I could feel that you really know this song well.”

As the panelists and audience nodded, his gaze turned to me.

“You did the arrangement yourself, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I can only say ‘amazing.’ Truly.”

Overwhelmed by such blatant praise, I didn’t know where to look. Embarrassed but trying to suppress the grin threatening to fly off my face, I forced a composed expression. Yet the sweetness of the compliment made me feel both happy and slightly awkward.

Then Jo Eul-sun gave high praise for the arrangement and structure, and I laughed sheepishly. But...

Why are you happy for them instead of me?

While I kept my expression in check, every time someone praised the arrangement, my members beamed happily. The MC caught this immediately.

“It seems Woo-joo receives the praise, but the members look prouder each time.”

“Yes.”

Bi-ju took the mic as our spokesperson.

“Whenever Woo-joo gets praised, we feel so happy. He’s our pride.”

“Right. He’s like Chuncheon’s dak-galbi to us.”

The maknae’s choice of words had everyone bursting into giggles. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Truly, this crown prince of tomato monsters. I’ll get you back after the show.

“He’d ask, ‘Ji-ho, which note suits this part best?’ and when I got it wrong, he’d say, ‘That’s wrong,’ and take my chocolate away. One piece at a time.”

As more “victims” testified, I wore an embarrassed expression. Is it okay to have this image?

Although the conversation kept coming back to me, the true star of today was someone else.

“The real star of that stage was undoubtedly Ri-hyuk, wasn’t it? I find it amazing. At his age to deliver such emotion—and his skills are still growing.”

Vocalist Lim Sung-hee’s eyes sparkled as she spoke about Ri-hyuk for nearly ten minutes. I thought of choreographer Clay, who used to watch Bi-ju. If the MC hadn’t stopped her, she could have praised him for almost an hour: “Our Ri-hyuk...” She clearly loved his vocals tonight. Yet the man himself merely lowered his head, blushing, unsure what to do with all the praise. Each time praise came, he cleared his throat, glanced at the ceiling, scratched his red ears, and flushed.

“Th-thank you...”

When our tomato monster held the mic with both hands and bowed politely, the audience clapped encouragingly. ...He’s even redder now. He’s tough against insults but vulnerable to praise.

Then the MC teased my expression.

“Earlier when Woo-joo got praised the members cheered, and now each time Ri-hyuk is praised, Woo-joo’s nose seems to rise by a centimeter.”

“Yes.”

I readily admitted it.

“I’m also so proud of our members.”

“The love you have for each other is amazing.”

I smiled silently. It wasn’t that I didn’t care for my juniors, but today I was especially happy. It had been disappointing until now. My members are so talented, and I can hold my own too. Yet we hadn’t had an opportunity to showcase our singing. To perform properly in front of the public and be recognized—it had been a long time. Seeing the audience’s affectionate gaze at our every move made me smile. At the start of recording, I thought even if half of them did that, I’d be satisfied. But this result exceeded my imagination.

“Oh, the teacher is here now.”

Due to personal matters, Noh Jae-hyun had stepped away, but with the help of a lady attendant he returned. As the gruff-looking veteran took his seat, Baek Sang-jung asked:

“How was it today, teacher?”

“Ah, um.”

After a few coughs, the old singer looked at us.

“Well, it wasn’t bad.”

Though he said that, his cheek muscles twitched, betraying how pleased he was. The MC smiled.

“You can’t hide your expression. Were you very pleased?”

“Well... yes.”

“NewBlack kept looking at your empty seat. As the original artist, why don’t you tell us how it was?”

My heart pounded. Like penguin henchmen awaiting the captain’s word, we gathered around the teacher. Meeting our shining eyes, he wore a shy expression.

“Today, I had this thought.”

As if steeling himself, the original artist spoke into the microphone.

“I wrote this song twenty years ago, but today these kids have given it its finish.”

Applause burst forth.

“Well, you say that... oh, why are you clapping so shyly? It’s embarrassing.”

Watching the veteran singer overwhelmed by the audience’s fervent applause, we clasped our hands and smiled respectfully. Receiving praise from the person we valued most left a warmth in my chest.

Noh Jae-hyun took the mic.

“Anyway, I... must say thank you. Woo-joo Sun, Ri-hyuk Lee, Bi-ju Wang, Jung-hyun Seo, Ji-ho Kim—all of you. Thank you. You’ve created a memory I’ll never forget.”

He looked at Ji-ho Wang blinking, then at the rest of us, and we returned his gaze with bright smiles and bows. His warm gaze lingered on us.

The moment of announcing first place. Near the end of recording, tired audience members voted via remote for the stage they thought was best. As we eagerly promoted “number five” with outstretched fingers:

“Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for—first place!”

Baek Sang-jung, holding the cue card handed by the writers, took the mic.

“Out of 633 votes, the team with 305 votes, claiming 48.3%, is... NewBlack! Congratulations!”

The moment I heard “New,” my fist clenched. It was done. There were no confetti cannons like on music shows, but the audience’s cheers were more than enough.

“Hyung!”

“Guys!”

We couldn’t help ourselves, looking at each other in excitement though we couldn’t jump in front of our senior singers. As we gave awkward “congrats” gestures:

“Congratulations!”

“You really got first. You were awesome tonight.”

Song Bo-hyung and Lisa were first to greet us. The Jo Yuri Band, self-conscious of others’ gazes, awkwardly offered handshakes. Cha Woo-hyun, with a matter-of-fact nod, tapped our shoulders.

“You guys were great.”

He was like a stone Buddha of the music world. Even if he had placed first, he would have nodded and said, “Oh, first place.”

We bowed again politely to the applauding panelists and audience.

“We’re not an audition program, so there’s no special prize, right? Since people said it was boring, the writers prepared something.”

A bright red cape fit for a Roman soldier appeared. As we, still misty-eyed from the first-place triumph, looked panicked, we hurriedly offered the cape to each other. It looked like a heartwarming display of camaraderie, but in truth we were desperately trying to avoid embarrassing photos.

In the end, our fearless rhinoceros beetle donned the cape and beamed proudly. And everyone was happy.

“The winner gets a special stage at the end of the season. In this case, it’ll be For FamousDeok’s ‘Deok-soon Ah.’”

This was one of today’s biggest achievements. We set a new personal legendary stage record and got to cover “Deok-soon Ah.” Truly killing two birds with one stone.

“Woo-joo, there’s a special story for you, too, right?”

“Yes. My grandmother’s name is Kim Deok-soon. Just thinking about singing it makes my heart go Deok-soon Deok... it’s thrilling.”

A perfect segue. ...Or so I thought. Judging by my members’ hysterical reactions around me, I was alone in that belief. Ignoring them, I continued my first-place remarks with determination.

“I’m truly honored and amazed to take first place among such incredible seniors. We will continue to strive even harder as rookies.”

“Thank you!”

Before the exit time, the audience stood and applauded. It was 11 p.m. The long recording was finally coming to an end.

Meanwhile, at the Lemon Entertainment CEO’s office:

“First place in the competition?”

“Yes.”

“Our kids?”

“Yes, CEO.”

“First, that cape photo of Jung-hyun Wang is a no-go. The biggest factor was Woo-joo’s arrangement tonight, right?”

Director Jo Gyu-hwan sipped coffee and replied to CEO Park Gyu-ho, who kept asking the same questions.

“Yes... um, I heard from Director Yoon Seok-hwan that the composers were very impressed by Woo-joo’s arrangement.”

“...”

“CEO? Are you okay?”

Drooping, Park Gyu-ho scrolled on his tablet and tapped on a piece of music equipment. Jo Gyu-hwan noticed.

“You’re buying it?”

“I already promised... How could I not back him when he’s this good? I must support my kid.”

“You look sad.”

“No. I’m happy. I feel good.”

He raised both hands like a middle-aged man performing mind control and took a deep breath. Then he clicked “Add to Cart.”

“Our money bag, our Woo-joo is the best... put money in, money comes out...”

As Park Gyu-ho deluded himself with denial of reality, Jo Gyu-hwan stifled a laugh, raising his coffee cup.