In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

At the Lemon Entertainment building, a man pulling an old suitcase stopped and wiped his brow.

‘This is Lemon Entertainment.’

His eyes, fixed on the black sign with a lemon logo, brimmed with nerves and excitement.

‘Really... I’m going to work here...’

He’d been eating cup noodles last night when he got the call: please join NewBlack’s fourth album project.

He’d said “yes” calmly, but once he hung up he’d jumped on the bed with joy.

‘Finally, a real chance to work!’

Composer Na Sang-yun of eight years’ experience saw all his past struggles flash before him—and resolved,

‘I have to do my best.’

He called A&R to say he’d arrived, and Deputy Seo Pil-geun came down.

The friendly smile put him slightly on guard—years of experience had ingrained the habit of distrusting unexpected kindness.

While waiting for the elevator, he fiddled with his suitcase handle.

“Um...”

“Yes?”

“Is the rumor true?”

“What rumor?”

He wanted to confirm the gossip from the composer community.

“I heard Uju can crank out almost a song a day—mixing sounds blindfolded.”

“That’s not true.”

“I thought so...”

“When he’s in good shape, he even writes two songs a day.”

“...Really?”

Na Sang-yun blinked, and Seo laughed.

“When we went to Japan, he said inspiration struck, and he emailed us three songs a day.”

“...”

“We joked about crippling hotel Wi-Fi in Japan. Ha ha.”

Deputy Seo shared assorted anecdotes—some matching what he’d heard, others new. One thing was clear: Uju’s musical talent was real.

‘What an opportunity. I have to learn his secret.’

Sensing his thought, Seo smiled slyly.

“Money’s one reason, but you also applied to observe Uju’s process, right?”

“Yes, haha...”

“I think it’s a great chance. Watching Uju taught me so much—like people don’t die so easily....”

“Pardon?”

“Ha ha. It’s nothing.”

As Seo grinned, a small sign featuring a dandelion and reading “NewBlack Territory” greeted them at the door.

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

When Na Sang-yun entered, he was startled. Seated before him was the most handsome person he’d ever seen.

He’d seen many celebrities, but never this. There was some glow on his face...

“Junghyun, turn off the King-bong.”

“Okay, hyung.”

With a click, the light went out. Turning, Na Sang-yun saw a strikingly handsome man on the sofa, holding that one-meter “Magic Princess” baton.

He smiled warmly like a bear, and Na Sang-yun blinked.

“...”

Deputy Seo introduced him.

“This is composer Na Sang-yun, who’ll help with the project. Say hello.”

Uju rose and stepped forward, offering his hand politely.

“Hello, composer. I’m Uju. Thank you for joining us.”

“I’m Junghyun. I—uh—do you remember my name...? Ha...”

Uju smiled awkwardly as Na Sang-yun fumbled. After Seo left, Uju gestured to a seat.

“Thank you so much for joining our album project.”

“Oh, no! I’m the one who’s grateful.”

“It’s my first time meeting you, but I’ve been secretly following your work.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You arranged a track on Girls on Top’s album, right?”

“How did you...?”

“Analyzing songs is my hobby—I listen to every new release, especially idol music.”

Uju beamed.

“In that hip-hop concept album, one track stuck in my head: ‘All or Nothing.’”

“That’s mine—I did the arrangement.”

“It was incredible. I’ve admired your work since then and wanted to collaborate.”

“...Thank you.”

“All your past work has been exactly my taste.”

Uju added with a smile, “If you hadn’t applied, I would have sought you out to ask to work together.”

Junghyun on the sofa blinked, but Na Sang-yun felt pure happiness.

‘I’m finally recognized for my music.’

Such praise, sincere and without hint of paying lip service, warmed his heart.

“I’m thrilled to work together. Please take care of me for the next two months.”

“Yes, likewise.”

“Me too.”

Uju then showed him the studio equipment.

“Wow...!”

The awkwardness vanished as the man’s face lit with childlike wonder. He’d entered paradise: every coveted, high-end device gathered in one place.

“Th-this...”

“Our CEO bought these so we’d work hard on tracks.”

“Your CEO is generous.”

Uju, seeing his awe, smiled in understanding.

“Want to try the keyboard?”

“Yes! Absolutely!”

It reminded him of visiting relatives as a child and playing their arcade games. As he pressed each key, Na Sang-yun trembled with excitement.

‘This is heaven.’

Seeing his angelic smile, Uju said,

“Shall we get down to work?”

“Yes, yes!”

“We’re planning to include many tracks on the 4th album. Here are results Junghyun and I recently worked on... care to listen?”

High-quality instrumental hip-hop beats flowed from the speakers.

“What do you think? Please be honest.”

“Hmm—the intro hits a bit hard. Leaves little space for vocals....”

“Then how about this?”

With each piece of feedback, Uju clicked his mouse. At first tentative, Na Sang-yun soon chatted away like an old friend. Whatever he suggested, Uju instantly understood—and sometimes offered even better ideas.

The musical dialogue flowed brilliantly.

‘This is fun.’

When had he last been this excited working?

About three hours later...

‘I’m getting a bit tired.’

His eyes felt gritty, but he thought he’d accomplished enough for the day.

“How are you feeling?”

“...Pardon?”

“Warm-up was easy—ready to work seriously now?”

“...W-weren’t we just working?”

“Yes, that was just a warm-up. Now let’s do real work. Ready for a high-five?”

He raised his hand almost reflexively—and his head spun.

Only then did the small mysteries align: the A&R message to bring extra clothes, the staff who’d laughed at him, Junghyun’s drawn face earlier.

“...”

He sensed something was wrong.

Meanwhile, in the A&R office, anxious voices rose.

“That new composer looks so frail—will he really manage?”

“Right. Can his health hold up?”

“How did someone so young end up in this gutter....”

“I’m worried sick. What do we do?”

“Oh dear, this is serious.”

Though they voiced concern, the cheeks of the staff holding teacups twitched with repressed laughter.

“Pfft ha ha....”

Someone’s chuckle broke the tension into peals of laughter.

“Ha ha ha!”

“Heh heh!”

“Ho ho ho ho!”

The office, enjoying a midday tea break, felt like a merry dwarf village.

While everyone joyfully prepared the next album, at last the day we’d been waiting for arrived.

“Happy 1st anniversary of NewBlack’s debut!”

“Waaaaah!”

We gave ourselves seal-clap applause. To celebrate our first anniversary, we held an event with fans: live-streaming our self-lettering cake making.

“Wow, everyone! Look at this—Viju hyung’s hands are pure gold. Do you know what ‘golden hands’ means?”

“Yes. A fan explained it at last year’s Daejeon fan sign.”

“You remember that?”

“When fans tell me something, it sticks in my mind.”

Viju covered his ear and laughed. We cheered, and he smiled joyfully. # Nоvеlight # In the chat, Soufflés marveled, “Viju knows new slang!”

“But it’s so pretty. How did you draw that?”

“I’m good, right, hyung?”

“Yes. It’s amazing.”

He’d decorated on PartyCo before—his skill then hinted, but this was truly next-level. Every decoration he added felt like beautiful flowers drawn on Xuan paper.

“How does Viju do everything so well?”

“Guys, did you see that? Favoring Viju only.”

“How is our Rihyeok so cute?”

“...”

Jiho grinned and patted Rihyeok’s back.

“Oogu-goo. Our Rihyeok is a baby. Are you jealous?”

“...”

“Where are you going? Come play!”

Rihyeok blushed and bolted off-camera until Jiho and Junghyun chased and dragged him back, prompting laughter. The cake instructor turned to me, who was staring at Viju’s decorations, and asked,

“Uju-ssi, want to try? You seem good at art.”

“Yes. Sure....”

Viju’s pupils dilated, and my brothers chorused, “No, you can’t!” so I couldn’t.

“What about me....”

“Then draw one of Viju’s flowers on this bowl.”

“Okay.”

I bravely drew a flower in chocolate, but—

“Uh, this isn’t....”

“See?”

“That’s a flower, right, hyung?”

Junghyun tilted his head. The instructor came over, smiling.

“My! You drew well. A Parisian style?”

“...”

“Not that... maybe an insect? A dragonfly?”

“...”

My brothers burst into laughter. We continued decorating: Viju arranging flowers, us sticking in macarons, holding fan-events with fans in between.

“Finally, news that our official fanlight’s name is decided! Reporter Jiho.”

“Yes, it’s been decided.”

“Our Dal-bong~”

As Viju called out the nickname with a bright smile,

“In total votes, the winner is ‘Kim Dal-bong’!”

“Wow... huh?”

We looked at each other in confusion.

“Kim Dal-bong? Is that real?”

“Oh, no...!”

“Jiho, what happened to Dal-bong?”

“It’s in second place—Dal-bong, hyung.”

“But really Kim Dal-bong is first? No miscount?”

The managers by the camera shook their heads. When we joked about adding the surname, we never expected it to become the official name.

“It is cute, but...”

“Isn’t Kim Dal-bong confusing? Sounds like Bong-son Dal-bong.”

“I’m confused too.”

Even Soufflés seemed muddled, flooding comments:

–I’m confused...

–Sounds like Kim Bong-dal or Kim Seon-dal

–Bong-da-da-da-bongdal

–Should have stuck with Dal-bong

–lol why is it confusing Kim-Bang-Dol Geum-Bang-Dol

–Bong-bongdal

–My mind is collapsing

–Isn’t this gestalt?

–Everything’s crumbling Bong-boro-bong

Like them, each time we said Dal-bong we hesitated. I suggested,

“Shall we drop the surname and call it just Dal-bong?”

Everyone nodded.

“Our Dal-bong launches soon—please look forward to it~!”

Junghyun shook his sparkling King-bong, and laughter erupted. We even tried naming King-bong but soon gave up: 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

–[Unique] Gyuho’s Heart (+7)

–Torch

–Ear-whacker..?

–Giant Baby

–Dae-bong

–Three sizes, so Sam-bong Chung-Do-Jun

At that last joke, Rihyeok laughed until tears came. They say if you like something you become alike—our hearts warmed at the Soufflés’ brilliant naming. Only the cake instructor’s pupils trembled.

“It’s done!”

We lit the candles and gathered around the cake. I would deliver the opening lines.

“Yes, NewBlack is finally one year old.”

I clapped my hands and smiled.

“To everyone here sharing this moment—you mean so much. Each second with us is precious, and we’ll cherish them all.”

“Hyung.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s add up all your time with us... um?”

Jiho spoke urgently.

“The... the candles are burning.”

“Gah!”

“Turn off the air conditioner! The candles are going wild!”

The candles burned down like a bomb fuse. We panicked, and the chat exploded in laughter.

“How many seconds left?”

“About ten!”

I hurriedly made a heart with my arms.

“Everyone! We love you! Stay with us until we stick in a hundred candles!”

“Here’s to a hundred years!”

“Long life to us!”

The cake instructor nearly choked then began to cry. Ignoring her mumble of “Just stick in new candles,” we frantically blew them out.

“Wow, we got them all.”

“Great job, everyone! Here’s to the 100th anniversary!”

“...L-love you, Soufflés.”

“Did you just say that, Rihyeok? That was Rihyeok!”

“Hey!”

“You thought we wouldn’t notice you whispering in the dark?”

Amid the ruckus in the dark, I wiped sweat.

“Hyung, turn on the lights.”

“Okay.”

And I immediately regretted saying it. With a click, the world burst into flame.

WHOOSH!

“AAAAGH!”

“My eyes!”

“Who turned on the King-bong?!”

A truly unforgettable first anniversary.

We wrapped up our 1st anniversary happily—went to take selfies with the fan-made anniversary ads, wrote posts in order on the official fan cafe. My own fan-cafe visit count became a hot topic—apparently fans found it amazing I visited daily for a year.

Is that so surprising...?

Meanwhile, our K-Pop concert debut anniversary broadcast finally aired. The company said overseas fans responded. The publicity team showed English comments on the YouTube clip—all heartwarming. The most memorable: “You perform so well I have no bias here.”

Short Japanese promotions also showed results.

“Wanna see this, Uju? The response’s great.”

“What is it?”

A YouTube video titled [Speak with Your Body Legend.swf]—our crazy antics to win ¥500,000 in Japan had aired on Japanese online TV and been imported back to Korea.

–lololololol

–I came for today’s trending video; it’s again Black; lol

–So it is Again Black

–What’s Again Black? Is it psycho..?

└No, not that lol

└They call them Again Black when they do something funny

–Funny both on- and off-screen... bravo NewBlack

–I’ve seen every video but this one beats all

–How did they even do that???

–They should’ve given 500k yen tax-free for that

–Pirarucu? Everything except that and the final military bit fits me lol

Deputy Hong smiled proudly.

“This is today’s trending video.”

“...”

“Overseas tweets popped up too—see the English comments? LOL stands for Laugh Out Loud. Hilarious.”

“But is this image okay? What if they think we’re Korean comedians abroad...?”

I asked seriously; she laughed. Meanwhile, as the Speak with Your Body video spread domestically, some variety shows requested us—one was Geniuses Biographies, which stunned me.

“They want you to face the national champs of Speak with Your Body.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Right? We think you’d win—it’d be embarrassing for the master otherwise.”

Though I’d worried about our image, the publicity team was focused elsewhere. Busy with album prep, events, broadcasts, finally I got a day off.

“Congratulations on your reservist duty, Uju hyung~!”

“Congrats~ Congrats~ We celebrate your reservist duty~!”

“Let’s do an acrostic poem for reservist—Junghyun hyung? Seriously this time.”

“Okay.”

Junghyun nodded after deep thought.

“Re!”

“Re isn’t now nor then”

“Ser-”

“Ser on rainy days”

“Vist”

“Vist like fried dumplings with udon”

“Amazing—if this were Joseon, you’d top the exam, hyung.”

Topping the exam indeed—I’d exile him if I were king. Summer drizzle dotted the car windows as we headed to the company-near reservist training center. The Men on the Go crew, waiting, greeted us as I stepped out.

They filmed my enlistment scene with assistant director, VJ, and writer. I answered light questions, checked my uniform neatness.

“Take care, hyung.”

“Really take care.”

“Hyoooo, don’t go! When do you come back?”

“In three days.”

“Th-three days?!”

“....”

They’d teased me in the car, but now before cameras they managed my image for viewers nationwide. Yet, as my brothers approached the training center gate, joy welled inside me. Time must be about up. As I took my beret from the ration pouch and shook off raindrops, at last the awaited person appeared.

“Huh...?”

My brothers, holding umbrellas in stunned silence, saw a tall handsome man with an umbrella emerge from a nearby alley. Like a romance-drama hero, he strode forward, and the boys, realizing who it was, were flustered.

“Hanjo hyung...?”

“Why are you here...?”

“Isn’t that the PD next to him?”

Next to the warmly waving Hanjo stood the Men on the Go PD, smiling like a schemer, carrying a giant roulette wheel. At that moment, the brothers’ eyes trembled—and I burst out laughing.

It was a roulette wheel with the Defense Ministry mascot giving a thumbs-up. Each segment was labeled cutely with one of our names—the project the PD and I had prepared ambitiously.

“Guys.”

I gave my brothers, still dazed, a warm smile.

“Let’s all go to the military together.”