In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“Fuhahaha!”

The morning after the K-Pop concert.

While we were all eating breakfast in the hotel room, the youngest held out his smartphone.

“Look at this. When Ji-ho’s marker expression changed so fast, it was epic, yuyura. Yuyu!”

“Want more milk?”

“Yes! Uh... no, hyung. They say I was epic like this. They’re saying I carried the stage and set it down.”

“Wow, our maknae is amazing.”

“...Please say that with some soul, hyung.”

Ji-ho was so excited he could barely speak, but none of it registered in my ears.

My gaze was fixed on the tablet PC instead.

Enjoying the cocoa’s sweetness, I took a bite of my bagel.

I hadn’t checked online reactions lately, except in the fan café, but doing so now was hilarious. My brothers leaned in too, noses practically glued to the screen between bites.

“Hooo...”

“Oho. Saving this.”

“Hooooo.”

“Hoho” and “hooo” kept appearing, and Ji-ho was calling us “Hyungs! Hyungs!” at the top of his lungs.

I gave a subtle nod.

‘Pat pat.’

‘Roger.’

Viju and Joong-hyun, sitting on either side of Ji-ho, kept their eyes locked on the device as they reached out and patted him gently—he calmed down immediately, so it must work.

Ri-hyeok, elegantly sipping his coffee, asked,

“You’re still looking that up?”

“Yeah.”

“I told you it’s hard to notice, even if you say it. It’s hidden so well.”

“Is it...?”

I was searching for what we revealed during yesterday’s concert: the relationship between Flower Dance and Baramkkot. How reversing one melody yields the other.

Ji-ho giggled.

“Your expression when you said that yesterday was hilarious. ‘This song has a secret. Hehehe.’ ”

Our managers, eating nearby, burst out laughing at his perfect impression of me mocking.

The others joined in.

“But I really thought that expression was cute.”

“When Uju hyung said that, his nose really flared. His eyes got huge too.”

“Look here. If Joong-hyun even noticed, that says it all.”

“Yeah. It’s his telltale sign, hyung.”

“Pfh!”

Our proud beetle-like Viju had the managers laughing outright.

“Did I look that excited yesterday?”

Everyone nodded.

Well, I was thrilled to reveal Flower Dance’s secret. Like the tailor in The Emperor’s New Clothes can’t resist revealing the trick, my philtrum tingled from the desire to say it since before the show.

Because...

“No one noticed.”

A week had passed since Flower Dance’s release.

Two weeks, three weeks went by, yet nothing happened.

I’d hoped a perceptive fan would post on the internet, “OMG, our boy’s a genius! Such foreshadowing!” But not a single Supple showed up before yesterday’s concert.

Not even during the follow-up music show!

No one!

No one acknowledged it.

As someone who loves attention and recognition, I couldn’t bear it any longer. So I decided to reveal it at the K-Pop concert.

“Let’s see.”

I searched for the fan reactions...

[The Secret of Flower Dance and Baramkkot Revealed by Uju Yesterday]

Oh, there it was.

The full Japanese talk from last night’s concert had been translated and posted on a fan community.

I focused all my attention and read it thoroughly.

It felt more like, “Oh... Uju had a grand design in mind.”

“...Did I make it too complicated?”

“When we were making it, the A&R team said to simplify it. They said no one would notice otherwise.”

“They did say that.”

I nodded at Ri-hyeok’s words.

Feeling a bit down, Ri-hyeok placed a piece of buttered bread on my plate.

“Thanks.”

I murmured that and looked at my brothers.

“When we make the next album, maybe we should design these kinds of things more simply. And take the A&R team’s advice more.”

“Yeah. And pick a song with simpler choreography...”

“Right.”

Viju replied as he neatly flaked his fish.

“The Baramkkot choreography this time was too easy. We need to give fans the fun of watching the stage.”

“....”

“Viju hyung, Ri-hyeok hyung is crying.”

“Oh... Ri-hyeok, are you okay? We can all work hard together. Want a ginger cookie?”

We talked about the next album for a while.

The fourth album.

We hadn’t finalized plans, but we were in meetings about the comeback schedule.

For a solo concert, we need at least 25 to 30 songs.

But because we insisted on well-made quality, we’d focused on each track, so the album had ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ fewer songs.

That earned rave reviews from critics, but the problem was if things stayed like this, we’d have to fill the setlist with a lot of covers.

Luckily we had good non-album tracks like Night Sea, Slip’s OST, and Life from Masterpiece, but solo concerts suit album songs better.

So I suggested moving up the comeback to ride Baramkkot’s momentum.

The next album’s production would be much easier.

The person who communicates best in the studio and has bull-like stamina was the protagonist of that.

“Joong-hyun.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“When we get back to Korea, let’s do an intense session together.”

“....”

Joong-hyun jumped and dropped the morning bun from his hand onto the plate.

Ji-ho exclaimed,

“Wow. First time I’ve seen Joong-hyun hyung look so stunned.”

I smiled contentedly.

“Joong-hyun.”

“....”

“Look into my eyes.”

With a creak, Joong-hyun raised his head and I gave him a warm smile.

“Like at the fireworks show, let’s burn our souls again. We’ll create our soul song, you and me.”

“....”

“The theme will be hip-hop, Joong-hyun. On my mark, if I say ‘hip,’ you say ‘hop.’ Hip!”

“...Please spare me, hyung.”

“Hop! Waaah! I’m so excited!”

I clapped in celebration.

While my brothers danced along chanting it wasn’t their concern, Joong-hyun nibbled his bun with a lost look.

Meanwhile...

“Oh?”

Won-seok, browsing MyTube, blinked as if he’d discovered something.

We all leaned in.

“What is it, hyung?”

“I was watching your stage video. It seems the comments increased since yesterday.”

“Hm? Comments keep increasing anyway, right?”

“These are Japanese comments.”

“...!”

We crowded around.

Sure enough, new comments in Japanese were appearing on the MyTube video.

“Did people who saw yesterday’s show come check it out?”

“Maybe. Could be a coincidence.”

“Still, it feels good.”

We giggled among ourselves.

The morning after the K-Pop concert.

Our first official schedule was a magazine interview.

It was with the top-selling Hallyu magazine in Japan, and we did a photo shoot too.

“Great! Perfect!”

The photographer beamed, saying we looked good no matter what.

We must’ve gotten photo-shoot savvy; in just a few shots we already had plenty of A-cuts.

After the shoot, we did the interview with a friendly editor.

Following some small talk, the editor’s eyes lit up as she turned to me.

“Uju-san, this must be nostalgic for you.”

“In what way...?”

“Your father was so famous in Japan. Anyone who remembers the ‘90s can’t not know the name Sun Myung-ju.”

Seok-hwan hyung, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes upon hearing a whisper from the local coordinator.

Hashimoto Genji, perhaps.

He’d been worried about the famous Japanese pianist who’d been contacting him.

Our managers watched to decide if they’d intervene based on the question’s direction, and after a moment’s thought I answered.

“Well... I was too young when my father was famous, so I don’t know much about that time.”

“Oh. I see. How old are you...?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“Hee... You must’ve been very young in the ‘90s.”

My brothers exchange looks, thinking “Where’s your conscience?”

But it wasn’t a lie—in Korea we use international age.

The editor nodded.

“Indeed. You were very young then.”

“I’d say it feels good rather than nostalgic. Even if I don’t know much, I’m happy as his son that many remember and love him.”

That answer ended that line of questioning.

Overall the questions were good, and my brothers kept the atmosphere light with their cheerful responses.

“Thank you for your hard work!”

After the interview, we all took a commemorative photo with the editor. As I was about to leave, she called me back.

“Um....”

“Yes?”

“May I take a solo souvenir photo with you?”

“Of course. What pose would you like?”

“That pose, please.”

She held up her fingers in a V-sign, so I matched it instantly and she snapped the picture.

Then, as if sharing a secret, she said,

“I was a huge fan of Sun Myung-ju when I was young. Even in middle school, I begged my parents to let me go to his concerts. Oh, and I’m still a fan now.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was so excited when I heard his son was coming. I insisted to the editor-in-chief that I had to do this interview.”

No wonder her eyes sparkled when my father’s name came up.

My favorite’s son, perhaps.

Fifteen years passed, yet the thirty-something editor looked like a teenager again as she talked excitedly.

“He was amazing. When I went to his concerts, there were so many instruments on stage, but all I saw was the piano. Every time he moved his hands, I felt like I was on a roller coaster.”

Then she whispered like it was a secret.

“Honestly, in Japan Hashimoto Genji is said to be Sun Myung-ju’s rival, but I don’t think so at all.”

“...Haha.”

I managed an awkward smile.

Hearing someone praise my father’s performances felt warm.

Though people sometimes recognized me as “Sun Myung-ju’s son,” I’d never met such a passionate fan overseas.

Especially after fifteen years.

Finding traces of my family’s legacy through someone else warmed my heart.

“You really know so much about my father.”

“Of course! I was his number-one fan.”

“You really have a kind heart. At a concert once, I happened to meet him afterward and told him it was my birthday the next day. He immediately brought out an instrument and sang Happy Birthday on the spot.”

“That must’ve been a wonderful memory.”

I remembered something similar from when I was little: my dad and his friends all played instruments and sang to me.

As I drifted into that memory, she said,

“We even took a photo then, in the same pose as today.”

She pulled out her wallet and showed me the picture.

In the blurry photo, my father grinned joyfully while a nervous teenage fan made a V-sign.

Then she seemed to recall something and said,

“It was exactly the same back then.”

“What was?”

“When I made a V-sign with my fingers curled like this, you matched it exactly like you did today, Uju-san.”

“Oh... you’re right.”

“You were so thoughtful. Like father, like son, I guess.”

I laughed quietly.

She must’ve wanted to share those memories, because she kept saying such kind things for a while.

As our conversation wound down, she said sincerely,

“I really hope Uju-san and NewBlack do well.”

“Thank you.”

“In that spirit, may I have each NewBlack member’s autograph too?”

She’d been so excited she’d forgotten to ask, so I nodded.

I called to my brothers, “Autographs!”

Like pulling out wands, they took out marker pens with serious faces, exchanged looks, and simultaneously popped open the caps. The editor burst out laughing.

She left with the paper bearing all five of our autographs, a pleased smile on her face.

Our second schedule was a TV recording.

Not a terrestrial or cable variety show.

Those require a certain level of recognition in Japan first—just like a foreign rookie can’t immediately appear on Korean terrestrial TV.

That’s why we didn’t jump at the self-proclaimed rival pianist’s invitation.

While the makeup artist tidied my brows with a brush in the waiting room, Seok-hwan hyung brought more news.

“Again...?”

It seemed Hashimoto’s side had asked to meet again.

“This time they just want to have a meal.”

“Tell them you’re not feeling well.”

“I already passed that along. The agency’s politely declining on our behalf, so don’t worry.”

“Still, I wonder if they’ll suddenly appear in front of us, ‘Surprise! NewBlack.’ ”

The makeup artist paused his brush and made a sad face.

“Uju-ya. Calm your eyebrows down.”

“Yes.”

With only my eyebrows made straight, the makeup artist almost cried from laughing.

Seok-hwan hyung said to me,

“Don’t worry about them popping up. I’ve handled it.”

“How... never mind. I’d rather not know.”

“Good. That’s the right mindset.”

Not a topic to discuss in front of the makeup artist anyway.

It must be one of “101 Ways to Politely Mess with Someone.” Whatever.

I had to laugh imagining Hashimoto’s entourage waiting with “Come on, NewBlack,” holding hands.

With makeup done, I left the waiting room.

“Hello!”

A tall male MC in the studio greeted us.

This was one of the broadcasters in Japan streaming programs online.

Like a cross between MyTube and TV.

A channel only on smartphone DMB, etc.

Because of that, its content was diverse, including programs introducing Korean idols.

We sat on plush leather sofas against a white Matrix-style backdrop.

After introductions, we jumped into talk.

“Who in NewBlack looks after the other members the most?”

We all pointed to Viju.

Ri-hyeok, fluent in Japanese, explained,

“Viju-san is very caring and looks after everyone.”

“Viju hyung is the best.”

“On the flip side, he nags a lot. ...And he’s good at giving those sideways glares like just now, when the camera isn’t looking.”

The smiling MC asked,

“Surprising. I assumed Uju-san, as leader, would take that role.”

“Absolutely not. He’s as far from caring as from Earth to the edge of space.”

“He’s just like a grandfather. A grandpa who’s good at music.”

“...Just you wait after this is over.”

At my gentle threat, my brothers exchanged glances.

“Uh... we’re in trouble.”

“Well, might as well go all out. Let’s go.”

“No... guys...”

“Go go!”

“Kyaah!”

My brothers bounced around like rubber balls, and the MC’s energy drained in real time.

“Uh... I see.”

“More to say!”

“Me too!”

“This recording is so much fun! Let’s do this forever!”

After calming them down, the talk corner ended and a simple game segment began.

“A famous game even in Korea: ‘Act it Out!’ ”

The MC took a card from production and said,

“For example, if the prompt is ‘giraffe,’ one person acts out giraffe and the team guesses.”

“Yes!”

Confident, we smiled—and then our eyes widened at the next words.

“To excite your competitive spirit, there’s prize money. Promotion opportunities for success, and for a perfect run, a prize of 500,000 yen!”

“What?!”

“Money?”

As we all stood, the MC chuckled.

“Yes. That’s right.”

“If we guess every prompt in Act it Out, we get the money?”

“Of course.”

We looked at each other.

“This seems too easy....”

“Right. We may be dumb with heads, but we’ve got good bodies.”

Concerned for production’s welfare that they might give away the prize for free, we prepared plans.

“Uju hyung should go out.”

“Hyung should do it.”

“It makes sense.”

My brothers chose me to give the motions.

Actually, I have some talent for that, so I was happy to volunteer.

Then Ri-hyeok expressed a concern.

“But if I’m the one acting, who’ll guess? I’m not quick at these things.”

“True.”

“Yeah. If it’s just us, we’re a ragtag team.”

“There’s got to be a way for us to both give and guess the prompts...”

My brothers only planned to exploit me, not contribute themselves.

“In any case, guessing is more important. Let’s have Joong-hyun give the prompts.”

“Hm, but wouldn’t it be easier if Uju-hyung gave them?”

“Hyungs, pick the side that eats more easily.”

“Then....”

After some back-and-forth, we turned to the MC.

“Before we start, could we do a practice round or two?”

“Of course. Anything’s fine.”

MC Kunimura smiled.

‘Cute.’

Like all the Korean idols before us, NewBlack had their eyes on the prize.

‘...They won’t win anyway.’

This game’s success rate was zero.

You could tell by the 500,000-yen prize. The difficulty was so high paying that much wouldn’t be a loss if they did succeed.

But acting out something like ‘encyclopedia’ within the time limit? Good luck.

Like “Win a billion if you hit the dart!” where the roulette segments are a nanometer wide.

Still, at the mention of prize money, our motivation blazed.

“500,000 yen...!”

“How much is that in won, Ri-hyeok hyung?”

“Of all times, it’s a weak-yen moment... At today’s rate, about 4.56 million won.”

“Amazing. That’s 400 giant pork cutlets.”

“Wow. At the 100-yen shop, that’s 5,000 pairs of socks.”

Ri-hyeok ran his hand through his hair.

“...I really hope this conversation isn’t translated into Japanese. No, I hope the Korean Supple don’t see it either.”

We held a strategy meeting among ourselves: who’d act, who’d guess.

“Uju hyung should act.”

“Hyung should do it.”

“It’s best.”

They chose me again.

Then Ri-hyeok asked,

“But if I act, who guesses?”

“Right.”

“I’m no good at that.”

“Our team would be a mess.”

“We need to focus on guessing. Let Joong-hyun act.”

After some discussion we turned to the MC.

“Can we do a practice round first?”

“Sure.”

The tall handsome MC watched as our hurried practice began.

The first prompt production handed us was “power.”

Joong-hyun pondered briefly, then struck a pose.

At that moment.

Production, the MC, and NewBlack all froze.

After a moment’s thought, Joong-hyun suddenly went “Ah!” and struck a pose.

A slightly relaxed lean.

With a blank expression teetering between solemnity and arrogance, he then began to clap.

“...?”

And in that instant.

We all flinched.

That...?

Viju looked at me as if to say “Really, hyung?” Ri-hyeok next to me flinched too.

That expression and the slow applause.

As if watching a military parade from a high vantage point and clapping politely...

If a compass saw that, its north pole would quake and point north.

“...!”

The MC’s pupils trembled, and as I wondered what to do,

Ji-ho, eyes narrowed, studied Joong-hyun and went “Hmm,” then suddenly sat bolt-upright.

He pointed at Joong-hyun with a bright smile.

“I know who that is! Kim...!”

I cried urgently,

“Hey! Stop him!”

“I’ll stop him!”

“That’s Kim...!”

“Yah yah yah yah yah!”

“No? That’s Kim...!”

“Yah yah yah yah yah!”

I shouted “yah yah yah yah yah” to drown out Ji-ho’s voice, while my brothers covered his mouth.

“Mmph mmph...!”

Meanwhile,

“Puhahaha!”

The stunned MC and Japanese production burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs.

Our staff, watching from afar, collapsed in giggles.

Only the bear on the other side looked at us with a puzzled “?” face.