In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

My mind went blank for a moment. When I turned my head, everyone around me had disappeared.

“.......”

The seats where the Teen Spirit and Wild leaders had been sitting were empty. It felt as if I could hear the wind rushing by—whoosh—

“You know me, don’t you, Woo-joo?”

“Yes. Thank you so much for the wreaths you sent for the fan meeting and showcase.”

To be precise, the wreath message had read “I’m coming to catch you.”

PD Do Joon-gi of Sanai-ga Ganda gave an awkward smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t write the wreath message myself... the writers went rogue.”

“Oh.”

“I actually wanted it to read ‘Just once, Woo-joo, please come on. It’s my wish. Okay?’ but the writers thought it was too much and changed it.”

I almost said Of course it was too much, but swallowed the words.

He smiled amiably and glanced at Han Jo standing beside me.

Han Jo...?

Mr. Han Jo. Hey, Mr. Lee Hyun-jo.

His eyes were unfocused. He looked like he was rolling his eyeballs, desperately trying to calculate my escape plan.

PD Do’s gaze fell on Han Jo.

“Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I-I’m fine.”

PD Do laughed.

“Don’t tremble so much. Idols always do that. Do you think I’m here to eat you? I just came to chat.”

...Yet here he was, traveling all the way to the set to say that.

Sanai-ga Ganda is a weekend show on TBC that’s pulling in solid ratings. If Ju Se-han is prime minister of TBC ratings, New Rabbit and Sanai-ga Ganda are maybe left and right state councilors. This is the show every celebrity wants to be on. Plenty of acts have blown up overnight after appearing here—if you announced “Anyone who wants to be on Sanai-ga Ganda line up here!” the breakroom would swarm.

But senior idols avoid it, because the main PD is notorious for being merciless. That’s PD Do Joon-gi standing in front of me. He once served as a special forces noncommissioned officer, and if not for an injury he probably would’ve stayed in the military his whole life. He’s a military fanatic, and because he’s rolled around so much himself, he’s famous for pushing his guests harder than anyone. I once saw an interview: he says he can tell from a guest’s reaction exactly how much they’re whining.

I was an idiot. I should have Googled his photo and avoided him. Now he’s beaming at me like a Cheshire cat while my insides burn with panic. I needed to calculate a getaway angle. I wanted to link my brain with Han Jo’s—two brains in turbo mode.

“I don’t know what you might’ve heard, but it’s mostly a misunderstanding. Isn’t Woo-joo close with Tae-hyun? I saw you video-call on the broadcast edit.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“What did Tae-hyun say? He said it was fine, right?”

I remembered.

[♪Please come out. Come out. Come out now~♬]

When I asked how it was, instead of answering he sent a foreign song with “come out!” repeating. I laughed and replied, 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

“Yes. He said it was a very good memory.”

Translation: He said he’d never do it.

“Right? Honestly, I liked Woo-joo since Ju Se-han’s screw-ups, but I really pushed for you because of Tae-hyun. There’s a rookie idol I absolutely want to recommend.”

Translation: My pick, but someone else’s pick, too.

PD [N O V E L I G H T] Do smiled.

“I already got a green light from your company exec, but how about appearing? I saw on SNS fans are expecting you to be on.”

Translation: The cameras are rolling. Let’s get a promise.

“Hmm, I’d like to go, but I can’t decide without consulting my company.”

Translation: No, no.

“Right. The company needs to consider it. We can’t confirm here. Is there anything about our show that worries you?”

Translation: If there’s any problem, speak up.

“No. Of course not.”

Translation: How could I say that.

Then I asked the question that had been on my mind.

“Is there a particular reason you want me? Such interest in a rookie like me...”

Translation: Why me, PD?

“Does seniority matter? The moment I saw you, I just knew.”

Translation: I want you.

At that moment, Han Jo—who’d been watching our friendly exchange—cautiously spoke up.

“Then maybe the two of you can talk—”

I grabbed his arm.

“It’d be awkward if I’m alone. Stay with me. Haha.”

Translation: Where would you go? We’re in this together.

“...Come to think of it, my attention’s drifting to this side, too. You’re Han Jo of the Street Boys? Nice physique.”

Translation: I want you too.

Han Jo looked sad, thinking, This wasn’t what I trained my muscles for.

Then, with the camera rolling, the three of us—PD Do, Han Jo, and I—put our arms around each other’s shoulders.

“All right! To celebrate the deal, let’s all smile together. Smile.”

“Hahaha.”

At that moment, the idol seniors strode into the studio, and at the sound of PD Do’s chuckle, they all took a collective step back.

“Puhaha!”

“That was really funny. I missed that rare spectacle.”

“What do you think of PD Do? Obsessed, right? His motto’s ‘If you can’t, make it happen.’”

The MCs’ jokes made Han Jo and me wave them off.

“Oh, no. He’s so kind.”

“For a rookie like me, I’m grateful just to be invited. It’s not an easy variety show to get on...”

Han Jo’s eyes glistened.

Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry, too.

Though we praised PD Do’s kindness, somehow we looked pathetic—and everyone burst into laughter. Especially Gu Sun-woong, who nearly fell out of his chair laughing.

“All right, this next call is from the members of TNT.”

“Here it comes.”

Gu Sun-woong swallowed hard as the MC turned to me, suddenly recalling something.

“By the way, earlier during introductions, Sun-woong said you knew each other because you were both trainees at TJ Entertainment.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Sun-woong scratched the back of his head and continued.

“As far as I know, that guy joined as a trainee back in elementary school. By tenure, he’s senior to me. I was the latecomer...”

“So he was the old hand.”

“At the time, Woo-joo was on baseball bat duty, right?”

Everyone laughed at the sports MC’s remark.

“So you must’ve known the TNT members a long time too, right?”

“Well, uh—”

“Yes. We all knew each other for a long time.”

Gu Sun-woong stepped in for me, sensing I’d be uncomfortable answering. Thank goodness. Mentioning TNT could get sensitive—on air, a private friendship could become a public scandal. If you mishandle a top idol fandom, a rookie group can get buried by hate comments. Eighty percent of the hate NewBlack got was from the time we competed for first with TNT.

Even the TNT members kept distance from me on broadcasts. Their kindness could backfire if perceived as favoritism. Now we’ve grown enough that casually mentioning “we were very close” passes without incident.

“Then can we expect you to tell them apart here, too?”

“Yes. You can look forward to it.”

I smiled brightly as the call connected.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hello.”

“Is this connected?”

It was Han Tae-hyun, Seok Ji-hoon, and Ji Han-bin, in order. As soon as I heard their modulated voices, I recognized them. Gu Sun-woong, though he knew who they were, still looked a bit uncertain.

“Hello! Hi!”

And there was one more. Of the four, the one with the most perfect Korean pronunciation.

Han Byeol.

Jang Han-byeol.

The only Chinese member in TNT. His surname is Jang, but his Chinese name was five syllables, so he made the three-syllable stage name Han-byeol. He chose a Korean name to settle here, yet he’s always in China—so he must be back in Korea now.

Meanwhile, everyone realized that the four youngest TNT members had gathered privately. Only those four could plausibly hang out together.

“Wow, we have precious guests.”

“Hello!”

“Are you all together right now?”

After some small talk about having gone out for pasta, they dove into Gu Sun-woong’s “deer dark history.” The leader’s suffering had the members gleefully teasing him.

“See, you should’ve treated us better.”

“Right. Karma’s a bitch!”

“All the bad juju you built up is coming back as reflected damage! Kekekeke!”

As the modulated voices teased, Gu Sun-woong trembled, vowing revenge.

“I won’t let you get away with it.”

“What will you do if we don’t let you?”

When Gu Sun-woong looked away, I leaned in to whisper, “Seok Ji-hoon.”

“Hey, Seok Ji—”

“Wait, wait. Hold on. Hyung, I think I heard a really familiar voice just now.”

“Is it Woo-joo? Woo-joo, is that you?”

“Hyung Woo-joo? Why are you there?”

“It’s the idol leader special, idiot!”

At the insult, everyone in the studio cracked up. I bowed politely.

“Hello, seniors. This is NewBlack’s Woo-joo.”

“.......”

Three seconds of silence. Then the studio speakers exploded with cheers.

“Oooooo!”

“I hate this!”

“I can’t get used to it. From now on, no more calling him ‘senior.’ Forbidden.”

One MC asked,

“Does calling him ‘senior’ bother you?”

“Yes... no...”

It was Tae-hyun’s voice.

“It’s not like we just met yesterday. We’ve known each other for ages at TJ. But on a public stage, you’re so formal.”

“Right. It hurts!”

“We were really close!”

“Speak in the present tense. You said ‘were,’ not ‘are.’”

“Well, we’re still kind of close...”

Hesitant, Han-byeol spoke up, and the others squealed with laughter.

“Look at how shy he is!” they teased, then called me over.

“Woo-joo.”

They handed me cards with the four names I’d suggested earlier.

“Woo-joo, hi. Do you know who I am?”

I held up the card labeled “Senior Han Tae-hyun,” and everyone covered their mouths, stifling laughter.

“Hi there.”

“Why are you greeting like that? It looks so lame.”

“You have to do it this way for anonymity.”

“Amazing. Totally anonymous.”

They passed me cards saying “Seok Ji-hoon,” “Ji Han-bin,” “Seok Ji-hoon,” and “Jang Han-byeol,” and everyone collapsed laughing. Gu Sun-woong nearly died laughing.

Meanwhile, as the MC whispered, “Who prepared those cards?” Yoo Chang-hyun mouthed, pointing at me. The MC gave me a pleased nod, and Yoo Chang-hyun asked,

“Since we’re on the subject, anything you want to say to Woo-joo? Or any dark history?”

“Hmm... there’s a lot.”

“But revealing it would give the guy over there too many cards to play.”

“It’d be a goldmine!”

While the TNT members joked, I quietly smiled. On their side, they must have endless material—especially about my dancing skills. They could fill a day with episodes. But they didn’t need to air my old complexes for laughs. I appreciated that courtesy...

“Oh! But I have one funny episode! Not dark history, just a quirky story.”

So it wasn’t courtesy after all. Figures.

“Oh, what is it?”

“When trainees whose hometowns aren’t Seoul stay in the dorm, weird things happened. I lived there too, and every night someone would sneak into the living room with a strange baton.”

Ah, that I could handle. I listened with a smile while the others looked on curiously.

“A baton?”

“It was the lightstick seniors who debuted earlier gave as a gift. It’s super bright.”

“It’d blind you.”

“But every night, after everyone fell asleep, he’d go to the living room, turn on the sparkle mode, and stare at it.”

Han Jo whispered, curious, “What was that about?”

“He said his eyes were sensitive. Whenever a camera flash went off, he’d reflexively squint, making it impossible to perform as an idol. So he used the lightstick to train his eyes.”

“Ooh...”

They looked at me in awe, which made me feel strangely shy and nostalgic. I really did work hard back then—but not that hard. Hearing it all packaged up was embarrassing.

“He was such a hard worker. Watching him, I felt I should work hard too.”

“We learned a lot watching him.”

“So whenever we saw him, we thought, ‘That hyung’s going to succeed.’ When this song did well, we knew it was his time.”

As the warm praise made me smile, Tae-hyun wrapped up.

“By the way, his nickname back then was Tinker Bell. Sparkling every night.”

Everyone giggled. The potentially dull warm ending turned clever, and the MC offered a closing line.

“You really did know each other a long time.”

“Yes! I’m so glad you’re doing well!”

“For sure!”

“I hope you treat us to a meal when you go further up!”

“Right! When are you buying us dinner~?”

“Dinner, dinner, dinner!”

“Two-beep-doo-dinner!”

In the whirlwind conversation, I smiled fondly.

“Well, then I’ll work even harder so I can buy dinner for you seniors—”

“Aaaaah!”

“Saying ‘seniors.’ I thought I was on pasta duty.”

“Puhup!”

“Excuse me! Please pass the handkerchief!!”

On the other side, the chaos made everyone laugh. I just laughed quietly. I’d expected maybe a bit of low-level dark history or moving on without mention, but I never guessed they’d set me up so warmly. It felt like they were paving the way for me to share more comfortably on air. I read their intention—and was grateful.

Just then I recalled the little kids huddled at the start. From the other side, excited voices called for their leader.

“All right, enough warm stories.”

“Gu Sun-woong—”

“Gu Sun-woong, please come back out!”

Gu Sun-woong looked baffled.

“Hey. You all treated Woo-joo so amiably, and with me—”

“With you it’s different, isn’t it? Kekekeke!”

“Let’s end this today! Mr. Gu!”

After that, someone’s anguished cries never ceased.

The atmosphere grew even more lively. True to the show’s motto “Your embarrassment is our joy,” everyone was having a blast. Though the recording dragged on and we were all tired, the mood stayed high. They say editing makes or breaks variety shows—same footage, different PD, different fun—but you couldn’t make this un-funny no matter how you edited.

As talk of part two shifted from joke to serious, PD Do and the crew looked tired but bright.

“Today’s vibe is great.”

The eldest MC said in his hearty voice.

“Usually long recordings bring yawns, but this is actually entertaining.”

“Our guests are working so hard for this show.”

The idol guests laughed, but compared to the rejuvenated crew and MCs, their dark circles ran deep—especially TNT, Teen Spirit, and me, who’s been racing music shows lately. We laughed, but with only two or three hours of sleep a night, it must have been torture. Recording like this, I might have to head straight to the station without rest. But hey, footage comes first. Sleep can wait for a quick nap on the waiting room sofa.

“Woo-joo, you look a bit tired.”

“The elementary school friend testimony really wiped me out.”

“No, I’m full of energy!”

I opened my eyes wide in protest, making the writers clap and laugh. Maybe my expression looked funny. One MC teased with a grin.

“I thought you might be sleepy, so now we’re moving to Woo-joo’s corner.”

“No need. I’m re—ally full of... vim.”

He must have been tired—he almost stumbled over the sing-sang-sung irregular verb from his English studies. I shook my head, insisting “I’m full of vim!” and the MCs connected the next call.

“Hello?”

A male voice. Who is it? This one sounded very familiar. Yoo Chang-hyun, glancing at the MC script, asked,

“First, sorry for calling so late.”

“That’s okay! The writers say the later the call, the bigger the gift card... kukuku!”

Everyone giggled at the capitalistic joy. But I couldn’t laugh—I recognized the voice the moment I heard it. And just like that, my sleepiness vanished.

“......!”

With a startled face, I sat up straight. An appearance from someone who must never appear.