In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

After quickly tidying up, we resumed the broadcast.

Since it was educational content, we spoke in a calmer tone than usual.

“As you can see in the picture, Paleolithic people lived in caves.”

“Why?”

“Because caves are good for sheltering from rain. Ji-ho, you know nothing about this—do you think you could build a house yourself?”

“Oh, that’s right. It really is best to live in a home nature made for you.”

We placed each illustration on the table so the camera could see them, explaining little by little—not just “this goes here, remember that!” but why each detail mattered, since kids unfamiliar with history would be most curious about the whys.

Whenever a new picture appeared, we invited guesses and discussion, keeping the flow engaging. Behind the camera, the writers nodded with satisfied smiles each time we paraphrased the script in simple terms. The PD gave us a thumbs-up, mouthing “Yes! That’s it!”

“Hey... this is really hard to remember,” Jung-hyeon said, scratching his cheek. “I get the explanations, but it’s like this is that, and that is this. Isn’t there an easier way to remember?”

“Hm... that’s true.”

At that moment, Biju spoke up.

“How about turning it into a simple song?”

“A song?”

“Yeah—using what we just learned, we could make a little song...”

I agreed on the spur of the moment.

“Then let’s give it a try.”

After a brief thought, we harmonized and sang:

“Paleolithic, Paleolithic—

They built rough huts and lived there!

Neolithic, Neolithic—

Dug-out floors, that’s called pit houses!”

To fill broadcast time, we sang a rough a cappella harmony. Our performance experience showed: even for a simple jingle, our stage manners and harmonies came out perfectly—maybe thanks to the impact of the Master Song Discovery first round.

“Stone Age—

Not yours but ours!

Bronze Age—

Now mine and yours, we can tell apart!

Ooh—private property!”

At “Ooh—private property,” the production team winced; one writer shut her eyes or trembled. We couldn’t help laughing.

I didn’t know how the first broadcast would air, but I thought the atmosphere was good.

“Ssok-ssok! History Exploration Squad” runs for about 30 minutes. Our nearly two-hour recording was drawing to a close, and the staff wore dazed expressions.

“So chaotic...”

It felt like someone had unleashed five little hellhounds.

Even watching them was exhausting.

“Ha-ha! That’s wrong, that’s wrong!”

“Kya-ha-ha!”

“No, I—I messed up! I just got confused. I’m not the type to miss that!”

During the final quiz summarizing the day’s content, the five idols were going absolutely wild. Even accounting for TV energy, it was hard to believe they were the same calm five we’d met earlier.

They were all working hard, but at this point, it almost felt like they were having fun.

“Neuaaah!”

Poor Ri-hyeok was struggling to ring the bell in time, repeatedly beaten by the others.

“Nooo! I knew it!”

“You should’ve hit it faster. Ri-hyeok—what good is speed if you don’t have quick reflexes?”

“Don’t tease me!”

“Oh dear. I wanted to wear that primitive costume, but looks like I won’t get to!”

As the members teased and laughed, one’s ears turned red. Everyone was giving their all to avoid being last and wearing the loser’s primitive outfit. Their zeal impressed even the producers.

“Wow... they’re really putting their bones into this for the kids, huh?”

“Look at the tension. Even the kids watching must be trembling.”

These idols were already famous in the industry for sheer diligence, but their performance far exceeded expectations.

“Wearing a costume can’t be that big a deal, Ri-hyeok. We’d love you even as a Stone Age person.”

“That’s right—so what if we’re primitives? Hahaha!”

Watching them laugh together, the head writer confessed to PD Seong,

“At this point, I can’t tell if they’re working hard or just enjoying it.”

“Yeah, right.”

For the staff at Kiwoom Production—accustomed only to children’s programs—New Black’s energy was an entirely new experience.

“Are # Nоvеlight # all idols like this?”

“Guess so.”

A strange misunderstanding even arose.

The head writer, who’d been enjoying the impromptu quiz show, lamented,

“It’s really a shame about the broadcast time. We’ll have to cut so much from this 30-minute slot.”

“Exactly. So little time...”

From the Stone Age through Gojoseon, they’d captured so many fun moments. It was regrettable to lose any of it.

“And also some of the jokes kids might not understand will have to go.”

“There were so many funny bits...”

Because it’s aimed at kids, the network’s pre-air review would require removing some content that, while harmless, didn’t fit the format. Even so, it promised to be a tightly packed, educationally rich show—but still, it was a shame.

“A 30-minute slot is unavoidable...”

As PD Seong pondered how to make today’s content more entertaining, an idea suddenly struck him.

“Ah.”

“Yes, PD-nim?”

“Writer Su-yeong—HBS has been uploading a lot of MyTube content lately, right?”

“Yes—they’re making various clips in-house. Adding subtitles to drama highlight reels, that sort of thing.”

PD Seong suggested,

“How about uploading the first cut to MyTube? So not just kids but anyone can watch.”

“MyTube?”

The head writer thought it over.

“You mean split it in two? The on-air broadcast stays the 30-minute kids version, and we post a separate extended cut on MyTube?”

“Exactly. What do you think?”

“Sounds good. The education department would love it. The question is...”

The head writer asked,

“Will other people find this entertaining?”

“Considering it’s an educational show... haha!”

When Ri-hyeok in his fur costume chased a fellow member with a flint tool and they scrambled away, everyone burst out laughing. With that, they decided to release a separate online cut of “History Exploration Squad.”

Our first recording wrapped successfully. PD Seong even walked me out himself—the atmosphere was warm and positive.

Like “Aww, our New Black!” vibes.

It was our first time receiving such VIP treatment on set; we all squealed with delight. When PD Seong proposed posting it on MyTube so others could see it, we all enthusiastically agreed. After all, the reason we do variety is to gain public recognition.

Following the history-show shoot, the second week of February flew by in a blur. We visited original songwriters to talk about the Master Song Discovery second round, rearranged our competition songs with A&R, refined the third-album b-sides, and spent every spare moment studying languages and preparing for round two. We worked, slept a few hours, then worked again—busy as worker ants.

Thankfully my vocal condition had fully recovered, but fatigue set in.

“Hyung, wake up. We’re here.”

“Just a bite more...”

Half-asleep, Biju kept shaking my arm. Too exhausted to move, Jung-hyeon gently pried my eyelids open. Outside the car window, the parking lot scene forced itself into focus.

“...”

I snapped fully awake.

Jung-hyeon smiled warmly.

“Wake up, hyung.”

“Oh... okay...”

Blinking, I sat up. It was such an inventive wake-up call I was speechless. As my siblings giggled and clapped, I couldn’t help but smile.

Dragging my weary body, we left the lot. I revived myself in the green room with red ginseng lozenges and scrolling through Grandma Kim Deok-soon’s profile pictures on my phone.

Friday afternoon. Today’s schedule: the production press showcase for PBS’s “Challenge, Master Song Discovery!” airing Sunday at 5 PM.

Our maknae’s face lit up.

“I’m so excited. Feels like I’m an actor again.”

“For the press showcase?”

“Yep. I’ve dreamed of this moment.”

He’d always gushed over how actors at their showcases said the same, calling it a dream come true.

A press showcase is the event held just before a drama or variety’s premiere—sometimes the same day, sometimes days earlier. Ours was two days ahead, on Friday. It’s the final push: gathering reporters, serving refreshments, and shyly saying, “Please give us your support.”

“Hey, guys.”

“Hello!”

In the Sancham-dong hotel lobby, we greeted the cast and crew warmly. As the highlight reel of episode one played, we warmed up. Then the staff beckoned us to enter.

“Now, I think we have a rising rookie from 2014—an idol group that took the scene by storm. Please welcome New Black!”

Following the MC’s intro, we stepped into the hall. Cameras on tripods lined the back; flashbulbs popped in front. On the photo wall for “Challenge, Master Song Discovery!” we all smiled brightly and posed. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

“One, two, three—”

“Hello, we are New Black!”

We turned sideways, draping arms over each other’s shoulders for shots, then pumped fists and shouted “Fighting!” Early in our debut, I might have signaled “turn here, make a V,” but now they moved in perfect sync without prompting.

“Shall we proceed with the group photo?”

After group shots, we did individual photos in order of tenure, then joined our senior singers for a final cheer.

“Next is Q&A. Please raise your hand to ask a question.”

Twelve cast members, plus the CP and main PD, sat in a circle on chairs. When I sat politely, hands on my knees, the members quickly mirrored my posture—yes, they were sharp.

Throughout the Q&A, cameras snapped so much I smiled until my cheeks ached. I half-expected my face to freeze in a Hahoe mask grin afterward.

Most questions on concept and planning went to the CP and main PD; senior singers fielded their share. We got a few too:

“Song Bo-hyung is a trot singer, Lisa is a musical actress, and New Black represents idols competing alongside senior singers—how does that feel?”

(Translation: If you don’t deny it, my headline will read ‘New Black, excited as idol representatives.’)

I took the mic and smiled gently.

“We don’t think of ourselves as representative idols. We’re honored simply to compete alongside these senior singers as juniors.”

PD Baek Seong-hyeon nodded in approval beside me.

Biju took the mic next.

“Through this competition, we’ve learned a lot from the seniors’ performances. There have been so many amazing stages.”

Well said, our second member.

He finished shyly,

“So we’d like to ask... please watch the live broadcast...?”

His shy but cute request drew laughter from the reporters.

Perhaps learning from my previous showcase tactics, whenever a strange question arose, the members calmly ignored it.

“There’s some reaction comparing your vocal skills to other singers, since you’re idols. Any comment?”

(Translation: If you don’t deny it, I’ll write ‘Idol overcomes idol limitations’ to grab attention.)

Before I could respond, Ri-hyeok, ever perceptive, stepped in with a practiced smile.

“We think those reactions come not because of who we are, but because we haven’t had many chances to show our best yet.”

He then earnestly added,

“Which is why we ask you to watch the live broadcast....”

“Don’t miss it live!”

When we all shouted “watch live!”, laughter rippled through the room. The CP covered her mouth, smiling proudly; other cast members looked on affectionately.

But even after Ri-hyeok answered, questions about our skills continued. We gave polite, standard replies each time, but it seemed endless. When someone even asked if we could sing a line on the spot, senior Cha Woo-hyun intervened.

“These kids are good—I know it.”

He spoke succinctly.

“In a competition judged by skill, what matters is the music you choose, not rankings here.”

As the most authoritative voice in the room, he effectively shut down further questions, smiling warmly.

“So if you’re truly curious, watch the live broadcast together.”

We all echoed “watch live,” and the once-stuffy atmosphere melted away.

Given the flood of questions about our skills, we could see some harbored doubts about our presence here. Hyung Seok-hwan warned us not to read the comments, so we didn’t—but hearing the questions alone told us plenty. Honestly, it wasn’t always pleasant to field them, but we smiled brightly and answered kindly. After all, time would solve it—once the first competition airs, talk of our skills will vanish. And since the PD said they’d hold back our performance from the teaser as a surprise, it was inevitable that our capabilities would be in question until then. So knowing the outcome, we could just laugh it off.

“Don’t worry about those questions,” Seok-hwan hyung said, smiling after the press showcase.

“Just wait until next Sunday. Then headlines will suddenly change tone. It’s all part of the buildup. Once the show airs, reactions will be completely different.”

We all nodded. Ji-ho, daydreaming, said with a bright grin,

“That’s right. Let’s all imagine it—just one more week, then the headlines will read ‘New Black rocks the world!’”

“Hey. ‘Rocks the world’ sounds better than ‘causes an accident,’” I teased.

“Ri-hyeok, you even prepared your interview line on your phone—‘We are the prepared rookies’....”

“What? Hyung, how did you see that?”

We laughed together, each thinking the same thing: let’s hold on for one more week. Since we were already in first place, the current reactions didn’t matter much.

With that resolve, we thought of the Master Song Discovery premiere on Sunday.

“...Huh? Manager.”

Min-gi hyung in the passenger seat looked suddenly serious, drawing our attention.

“Take a look at this, Manager.”

He held up his phone. In the red-light traffic, we all leaned over to see the screen.

“...?”

It was a “Best” post in an idol community.

“New Black live controversy...?”

We stared, confused. The video embedded in the post was a fancam of our events on Saturday and Sunday...