In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The man rewound the playback bar—about two minutes in—to the very beginning.

The studio looked like a mushroom village. Five handsome young men beamed at the camera and greeted:

“Hello, children!”

He almost chuckled. Each wore a black T-shirt with their name printed in white old-style script—as if to imprint their names on the viewers’ minds.

Woo-ju held cue cards and smiled:

“I’m Woo-ju of New Black, who from today will explore fascinating events in history with you.”

“I’m Bijoo.”

“I’m Jun-hyun.”

“I’m Seo Ri-hyuk.”

“Hello. I’m Wang Ji-ho, descendent of King Gaeseong.”

They turned their shirts around to reveal the character 王 (“Wang”) on Ji-ho’s back. The man grinned.

Ji-ho puffed his chest:

“You know my ancestor was King Taejo of Goryeo.”

He was immediately rebuked:

“Ji-ho, please skip unscripted jokes.”

“No spontaneous stunts, Wang Ji-ho.”

“Tch.”

Jun-hyun nodded soberly:

“Right, Ji-ho. If you’re King Taejo’s descendent, then I’m a descendent of King Suro of Geumgwan Gaya.”

“Eh?”

Ri-hyuk looked up in mild surprise.

“Hyung, the founder of the Gimhae Kim clan was Kim Suro.”

“...Really?”

Jun-hyun gasped, and the others clapped and giggled. He asked again:

“Since when?”

“How about, since two thousand years ago...?”

“Oh. So that sunbae was our clan progenitor.”

They teased him, “A two-thousand-year-old sunbae?” and he laughed. Though his appearance seemed fierce, his tone and manner reminded the man of a gentle bear.

Hearing the studio staff laughing through his earphones, the man smiled to himself.

“What is this?”

He’d expected an idol show full of aegyo tricks, but this was surprisingly entertaining. Could this really air on a kids’ program? Some bits seemed aimed at adults, but it resolved his doubt: the show cut child-level parts and left in the segments adults would enjoy. They still called viewers “children,” but that didn’t matter—fun was paramount.

Their comedic chemistry was so natural they might have been training comedians. The high energy fully woke him up. The production team even slathered the screen with variety-show style captions as if venting pent-up frustration from making a children’s show.

“Not bad,” he thought. More than funny, it was instructive. Amid the nonstop jokes, they dropped plenty of useful information.

“Let me ask a question.”

The member with the cool demeanor opened his lips, and the others folded their hands and listened.

Bijoo grinned playfully:

“Yes, Doctor. Please go ahead.”

“Wow.”

The eldest clapped and interjected:

“Timing for our PhD candidate’s question is impeccable!”

“I got goosebumps!”

“Heh-heh.”

“....”

Like hyenas tearing at prey, they teased him, and he chuckled himself. Then they all paused at one point, tilting their heads.

Was it a special effect? Ri-hyuk’s ears and face had turned bright red—but, oddly, it wasn’t an effect. He coughed:

“...The leaf-shaped bronze sword has changed to the three-pronged type. What does that mean?”

“Ji-ho! Ji-ho!”

“Uh, it’s not a quiz—just say it...”

“The three-pronged sword came much later and is more refined. That means the cost of materials rose.”

“....Original.”

Woo-ju sighed in admiration. Ri-hyuk nearly nodded along before elaborating:

“No, actually, the leaf-shaped swords are found in Liaoning and Korea. The three-pronged swords appear only in Korea. That shows a unique Korean bronze sword design emerged.”

“A homegrown product.”

“Ooh. K-bronze sword.”

When Ri-hyuk explained, Woo-ju summarized for clarity while the others reacted. Fun plus useful information—a perfect combo. The man found himself watching intently, then wondered,

“Not bad. Should I subscribe...?”

Though less dense than a lecture by a professional, it focused on entertainment. But a humorous yet informative lesson was rare. Just now...

“Pft!”

He almost laughed out loud at the clip of Ri-hyuk chasing someone with a detached stone tool. The seventeen-minute video ended and [Behind the Scenes] began—an NG montage. A mini log lay on the floor, and Jun-hyun sat solemnly rubbing sticks.

Ri-hyuk, glasses perched, explained:

“The discovery of fire revolutionized early human life. But making fire was extremely difficult. As you see, rubbing sticks—”

“Rub them, Jun-hyun.”

“Yes, Mr. Woo-ju.”

Scritch scritch.

Smoke rose immediately, catching Ri-hyuk off-guard.

“What—why is there smoke?”

Whoosh!

“D-did it work?”

“What—why is there suddenly fire...?”

“Incredible! It’s fire!”

“Oh. It works...?”

The members gaped while the staff burst out laughing. The man on the subway nearly laughed, too.

Snort...!

Thankfully, no one seemed to mind, but once the laughter bubbled up, he had to cover his mouth. Onscreen, Woo-ju stepped forward:

“Hand it here. I’ll show them how it’s done.”

“This worries me. Wouldn’t it be better if Bijoo or Ri-hyuk did it?”

“They’re too scrawny. We need to prove that even burly people can’t do it.”

“I’m not scrawny, hyung. These are ripped muscles...”

“Bijoo, step back.”

“O...okay.”

Ri-hyuk resumed his explanation as Woo-ju rubbed the sticks. Woo-ju made gentle motions:

“As you can see, early humans made fire by—what?”

Whoosh!

The staff laughed again, and the man stifled another chuckle. Jun-hyun gave a seal-clap:

“Amazing. Faster than me.”

“That hyung would thrive in the prehistoric era...”

“He’d be a tribal chief. If he’d been born then, we’d learn Jenmin Joseon instead of Wiman Joseon.”

As staff doused the stray fire on the log, the video finally ended. The last clip showed New Black standing neatly in the hallway. Woo-ju grinned:

“Ssok-Ssok! History Expedition! Please like and {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} subscribe—”

“Yo.”

“Hey, Kim Jun-hyun. Get over here!”

“You won’t catch me, yo.”

Woo-ju chased them like a beast-hunter as the others cried, “Waaah!” and the video cut. The cameraman and writers’ laughter echoed through the train car, and the man’s cheeks quivered with suppressed mirth. Third near-breakdown averted, he finally pressed the Subscribe button.

“I should have bookmarked these and binged them later. Oh well.”

He smiled, then looked up—his stop was approaching. As he adjusted his coat, he reflected how he felt lighter than usual—a result of laughing that morning, he supposed.

That same day...

Viewers guided by some inscrutable algorithm, after watching the videos, were clicking Subscribe.

“I was definitely watching history lectures...”

They’d intended to find educational MiTube content, but before they knew it, fire was blazing and they’d subscribed and liked.

-What am I doing here? [37 likes]

-Adults? Any adults here? [17 likes] 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

-Why am I watching this?

-Time flew by

-I was watching Discovery Team, then whoops 0_0

-Why is it fun???

-ㅋㅋㅋㅋ I lost it when they made fire [10 likes]

-Fireㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

-ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ “You won’t catch me, yo” kek

-Why are they idols kek

-They really work hard, they're everywhere

-I just watched the “In-saeng” live clip, now this?!

-I came to watch drama clips, now I'm here lol

Soufflés who’d subscribed to HBS’s channel saw the views and comments spike. And...

“What is this...?”

A New Media team member for HBS’s MiTube account tilted their head at the subscriber boom.

“Oh ho.”

A middle-school history teacher watched and thought, “This’d be great to use when kids are bored.”

Meanwhile, the biggest reactions came from Soufflés:

-???

-Guys?? lol Why y’all over there?

-Fireㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

-Ri-hyuk chasing with the flint tool gif

-Insane. I’m sharing the fire clip in communities

-So fun hahahah there’s a grand scheme here

-How can a sparrow know a beetle’s message

Soufflés’ responses exploded:

-Our kids turn kids’ shows into variety shows! (Proud)

-My bias is on MiTube?! Mysterious Souffle TV

-I was heading to work and got lost by random content

-Is this fangirling or studying

-Please share the random-box quote meme

-I heard Ri-hyuk’s notes are on that site, as a PDF

-Merch?

-I guess it’s merch but not really merch

-kek never thought I'd download study materials while fangirling

-Mom! My bias made merch—a history digest!

Amid praise for its novelty, suggestions followed:

-lol it’s fun—make member-specific MiTube lessons

-Kim Beetle’s fitness PT.metube

-Ooh that’s good lol

-but guys, one thing you’re missing

-???

-?

-Won’t Woo-ju give composition lessons?

-!

-I hadn’t thought of that.

-shakes head

-If you go to Woo-ju’s MiTube, you’ll get screen-locked and can’t escape...?

-Or you’ll be imprisoned by Woo-ju’s looks?

-Who said that line? Come out

-Woo-ju?

As Soufflés trembled in delight, PR Deputy Manager Hong Seo-young smiled wryly watching the fan community.

“—Achoo!”

Just as he sneezed and reached for a tissue, one was offered.

“Hyung, here.”

“Thanks. Our second is the best.”

Wiping his nose, he looked at the back seat.

“Unlike the rude one viewing me as a virus.”

Ri-hyuk sat there in a mask, looking at him as if he were a germ.

Ding dong.

A message alert sounded.

Ri-hyuk [I’m just worried you’ll catch my cold]

Ri-hyuk [I’m different from you guys]

Ri-hyuk [If I get sick it’s three weeks]

Me [It’s a sneeze not a cold, you brute]

Me [“Seo Ri-hyuk Paleolithic meme.jpg”]

As Ri-hyuk’s eyes turned triangular, Jun-hyun sent an emoji.

Jun-hyun [clapping seal]

In turn, his brothers sent emojis.

Bijoo [“it’s okay”]

Ji-ho [“tee-hee!”]

Me [“Love Yourself”]

“Geez, you rotten brats...!”

Ri-hyuk’s rant from the back seat had them laughing.

“These emojis are great.”

“I want a Part 2 soon.”

The emojis they were using came from a new product, “New Black-Con Ver.1.” Seeing their studio faces animate in emoji form felt surreal. Though released recently, they used them constantly.

“Old hussy [“Unbelievable”]”

“Old hussy [“Where do these crazy phrases come from?”]”

He’d sent those to Grandma and friends. Taehyun teased him:

-Taehyun [“Oh? Showing off emojis?”]

Taehyun [emoji]

Taehyun [“Wait until six more versions come out ^^”]

And he’d countered with a throwback meme of Taehyun’s. Daisy responded with, “Is that all?” in her own emoji—but he didn’t reply. He still remembered tossing her over his shoulder at wrestling practice. Street Boys only reacted, “Woaa!”

Why was he surrounded by such weirdos?

“Uh, we’re here! We’re here!”

He looked up at Ji-ho’s excited voice. They’d arrived in Paju, Gyeonggi Province, en route to the GTV drama Slip’s set.

“Oh. This is it.”

They parked before an unassuming three-story building. Equipment trucks marked “Firefly Production” and vans for celebrities filled the lot. Upon notification, an FD emerged.

“You’re here to meet the music director? This way.”

“Thanks.”

Stepping inside, he marveled. The managers gaped too. A sprawling set eerily replicated a police station. If the office from an idol show had studio-quality but was obviously fake, this felt like a film set.

“Wow...”

They gaped, and the FD smiled through his earpiece:

“Pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah, it’s our second police station set. Last time, they only built a holding cell.”

“....”

At the FD’s slight cringe, they waved it off and explained, making him laugh. They continued down the hallway, greeting staff:

“Hello, New Black!”

Some staff said “Oh,” others smiled back. The FD remarked:

“I saw your Discovery Team clip—‘In-saeng.’”

“Really? How was it?”

“It was great. I set it as my ringtone.”

They all gave thumbs-up, and he laughed.

“By the way, if it’s not rude, could we get autographs or photos when you leave?”

Mentioning his parents liked New Black elicited a ready “Yes, of course.” They proceeded.

“This is it.”

He was warned about cables as they passed the filming area and reached a quiet office. As he raised his hand to knock:

“Hey, New Black!”

They turned at the warm greeting—and froze. An actor in detective garb strode toward them down the corridor.

“Oh...?”

It was someone they’d met before.