In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

I sheepishly returned, and one by one the others took their turns throwing the frisbee.

“Wow...!”

Each time someone threw, the dogs bolted, grabbed the disc in their mouths, and brought it back.

‘Do I throw the frisbee well?’ the cast murmured proudly—until the detection team leader said,

“Don’t get cocky.”

“...”

“It’s not your skill—it’s the dogs’. They’ll fetch no matter how badly you throw.”

He shook his head, looking at me.

“Just don’t make it a boomerang.”

“...”

His diss drew chuckles, especially from Han-jo, who looked delighted.

As I rolled my eyes, the leader called Jung-hyun.

“Number 9, give it a try.”

“Yes!”

“No need for fancy form—just throw hard.”

“Really hard?”

“You’re not going far anyway.”

The cast reacted, ‘Uh....’ They looked like they wanted to say, ‘That “hard” isn’t that hard,’ but stayed silent, awaiting the leader’s cool encouragement: ‘Go on, try it.’

Jung-hyun flicked his wrist a few times, eyed Ji-gu sitting ready, and said,

“I’ll throw.”

“Just throw. The dogs can’t understand words anyway—”

Woof!

“—sometimes they do reply.”

Everyone stifled laughter. It was as if Ji-gu answered ‘Yes, yes’ to Jung-hyun’s question, ‘Ready?’

Then Jung-hyun hurled the disc with speed.

“Ooh...!”

It was so fast, like the dogs’ previous sprints were only warm-ups. They tore off as if hunting real prey instead of toys.

Just as Ji-gu reached the end of the range and was about to jump—

Whoosh!

The frisbee sailed over the fence and vanished like a dot.

“...”

Ji-gu skidded to a stop, staring blankly beyond the fence, then looked back at us.

Everyone tried not to laugh as Jung-hyun bit his lip in embarrassment.

The leader rubbed his chin, then asked Jung-hyun,

“What’s your relation to No. 8?”

“Same group!”

“I thought so.”

He sent Jung-hyun and me warm smiles.

“You have three minutes.”

“...?”

“You two run and fetch that frisbee.”

Why me?

“For every second late, ten push-ups extra. 180... 179.”

“Aaah!”

Jung-hyun and I sprinted. At the mention of push-ups as punishment, Jung-hyun picked up speed.

Paba-bat!

“Hey! Kim Jung-hyun, you—!”

“Sorry, yo!”

“Heyyy!”

The camera director running alongside us laughed breathlessly.

“Nineteen, twenty...”

After twenty push-ups, muscles already adapted over these days, it was doable.

I still didn’t know why I got sucked into punishment duty.

From the start, it felt like I’d been singled out by the instructor.

“From now on, stop pushing No. 8 for demos.”

“But No. 8 is our ace.”

At Park Ho-beom’s words, the instructor shook his head.

“Don’t say that. It’s creepy.”

“It’s true.”

The detection leader shot a skeptical glance.

After one boomerang throw, to be met with distrust...

But soon opinions of Jung-hyun and me shifted.

“Good boy... hiyah!”

The dog that’d detected the fake C4 yanked Handler Jo So-hyung by the leash in play.

The leader alternated gaze between the sand-covered Jo and the joyous dog, then rubbed his forehead.

“...”

So-hyung began circling the yard, shouting “Watch the leash! Watch the leash!”

“That’s why you pick a handler stronger than the dog.”

Everyone agreed. Though we hadn’t fully felt it before, detection dogs were ferociously strong. One slip, and even an adult is immovable.

No wonder the leader and officers flexed muscular arms.

“Next trainee, step up.”

Calling others, he probably thought they’d fare better, but most struggled similarly—either overpowered or confused the dog with wrong cues.

Each time, his glance toward Jung-hyun and me softened.

“No. 8, step up again.”

“Yes!”

The exercise was simple: one container hid C4, and each dog worked to find it. When it sat by the correct one, handler rewarded it with a toy.

“Good boy! Well done!”

In high-pitched delight I offered the toy, and the Shepherd seized it. I felt primal strength from its jaws.

“Nice. Don’t let go—give it a gentle tug-of-war, then release.”

“Yes!”

Its power made sweat drip down my back. When I let go, the Shepherd joyfully shook the toy. I asked the leader, approaching,

“What next?”

“You lure with a different toy.”

“Like this?”

Recalling the officer handler, I shook a new toy before the dog and hid it behind me.

“...?”

Curious, the dog followed my trail. Using deft hand-moves, I led it until it took the new toy in its mouth.

“Well done.”

“Thank you...?”

Snap.

The dog gripped my hand.

“As expected, you’re a natural handler.”

The leader’s eyes were gentle. Other officers nodded in wonder at how I mirrored their hand motions.

“See? You all, learn from No. 8.”

“Yes!”

“No. 8, try another.”

Rapidly elevated from average to A-rank, I led further drills. The most praised skill was my praise itself.

“Yes! Good boy! Great job!”

Each time I told the dog, “You’re the very best in the world!”, it became ecstatic.

“When you praise this well, the dog goes crazy. Remember that.”

I heard whispers:

“I want praise like that.”

“My mom never said that to me...”

“That’d make any person happy.”

I’d used encouragement to uplift downcast trainees—I never thought it’d work on dogs, too. Though why Jung-hyun loved it, I couldn’t say.

I also received critique.

“Watch.”

When Ji-gu sat by the wrong container, the leader stepped forward.

“Large breeds are smart and crafty. Sometimes they sit anywhere, thinking it pleases you. You must firmly say ‘No!’ and pull the leash.”

I obeyed—“No!”—but it lacked effect. The dog barely flinched.

“No. 8 does everything well but can’t say no to the dog. Sometimes you must be strict to manage a dog.”

Still, I earned praise. Next, Jung-hyun also was commended.

“No. 9 did well, too.”

True to form, he outdid everyone in handler skills. Except...

“What? The dog lost its toy.”

“Look at it confused again.”

“Wow, he overpowered the dog.”

Jung-hyun yanked the large breed’s toy from its mouth. Watching the dog look up helplessly, the leader and officers flinched, then approached Jung-hyun.

They tried not to laugh. Like Team 1’s members, they inspected his biceps in disbelief.

When two officers nodded, the leader said:

“No. 9.”

“Yes!”

“Go see a doctor.”

At the joke matching Day 1’s, everyone burst out laughing. The leader, hearing behind-the-scenes context, joined in hearty laughter, then gave Jung-hyun his overall assessment.

“Not bad but unsuitable. Your approach is good, but...”

“?”

“Right now, the dog looks at you as its master.”

“...”

“You must act human, not dog.”

Perhaps from dominating Ji-gu, even the other dog showed reverent gazes. As Jung-hyun returned amid laughs, the dogs’ eyes followed him—and I smiled, too.

Amid evaluations of Ho-beom, Jung-hyun, and me as passable, one person earned the leader’s highest praise.

“If I had to choose a handler among nine, I’d pick No. 7.”

Han-jo.

“No!”

He commanded firmly when the dog erred—neither too harsh nor too weak. The dog’s ‘Ah! I get it!’ look was convincing.

“Yes! Good boy!”

His praise was just as skillful. The leader asked Han-jo:

“No. 7, ever kept a dog?”

“Yes—I have two retrievers at home.”

“I thought so.”

His experience with large breeds let Han-jo excel in handler training. Each time the leader praised him, his shoulders rose like Everest—he was in his element.

Though Jung-hyun and I pulled off bizarre feats, Han-jo, usually anxious, glowed as his chance arrived. Though great training mattered, this was entertainment—Han-jo knew how to seize his moment.

“Nice one, right?”

“Indeed.”

Jung-hyun and I whispered as we watched Han-jo joyfully run with the dogs,

“Well done! Kiyoh... kiyot!”

Han-jo’s praise set the cast and crew giggling; only the leader and handlers mused, “This guy’s something else.” He’ll be amazed watching the broadcast later, but for now, happiness mattered. If he’s this happy, that’s enough.

“Kiyoooot! Kiyah-ho!”

I decided to capture that moment on video later.

When afternoon training ended, Tactical Team 3 applauded.

“Good work today.”

“Thank you!”

We all smiled, relieved that brutal PT and drills were over.

“Tomorrow morning, you’ll patrol the airport with Team 1.”

Our hearts raced at wearing black uniforms and vests to patrol the airport.

“And remember: there’s a joint anti-terror drill at the airport tomorrow evening.”

Though we already knew, tears welled at the thought. Please don’t make us wear gas masks and run.

Police, aviation security, customs, fire department—all agencies would join the exercise.

The Team 3 leader clapped.

“Good luck tomorrow. Dismissed.”

“Thank you!”

We shared warm farewells with Team 3.

“Wow, look at how our black uniforms are faded.”

“Really—wow...”

“The way they fade, it’s like the real special forces’.”

After three days of rolling and crawling, the fabric truly looked seasoned.

“We’re veterans now. Ha-ha!”

“Woo-ju’s uniform is the most seasoned.”

“Puhaha!”

The cast laughed at my clothes. Curious, I checked a mirror—I looked like an actual operator.

“Wow...”

Those fabric hues alone made me a believable special-ops soldier.

I half-imagined Team 1’s laughter echoing.

With a wry smile, the “Men on the Go” cast patted me.

“Woo-ju, you did great.”

“You’ve done three days’ worth of reservist training in one go—feel proud.”

“Thanks to you, it was so much easier.”

Jung-hyun and Han-jo nodded.

“Yeah. And we got to enjoy that ice cream.”

“Those demos were easy with you.”

Their warmth felt good. Right—after all the work, we also got huge broadcast time: me, Jung-hyun, and Han-jo.

“Kiyah-hoo!”

When I looked, Han-jo blinked.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—just happy you got your airtime.”

“Thanks.”

His happy smile made me smile back.

After a cozy group dinner, that night we watched a Hollywood film about a showdown between terrorists and police special forces.

And finally I video-called Bae Sang-kyung’s sister—she remembered us from our first meeting when she was a soufflé.

Under camera watch, the call connected.

“Hey—what are you doing?”

“Ah, you scared me!”

Jung-hyun and I hid behind, smiling. Sang-kyung’s sister, sulky, said,

“You said you like NewBlack.”

“Don’t put our names in your mouth.”

Her firm words made Jung-hyun and me silently laugh; Sang-kyung alone said, “Just go with it.”

“But—how are you calling? You’re in barracks—did you sneak your phone out? Are you crazy?!”

Angry, she distanced the phone.

“This is for the show.”

“Show?”

“We’re filming ‘Men on the Go’. Look.”

She handed us the phone. Jung-hyun and I made heart shapes with our hands and said,

“Hello!”

“...”

On screen, someone with rollers in their bangs ate a sweet potato.

“Hello,” I greeted again; she gaped, then—

Flip.

The phone camera rotated 360° and dropped, plunging us into darkness.

“Uh—are you okay—”

“Screee!”

The shriek made Jung-hyun and me recoil from the phone.

At 1.8× speed we heard, “What do we do, what do we do?” Sang-kyung grabbed the phone back, and the sibling chat resumed.

“One minute,” she said.

“...?”

“I’m washing up.”

We laughed. Three minutes later, the screen lit as she reappeared, fully dressed. Sang-kyung laughed weakly at her transformation; we smiled.

“Hello!”

She held up her plushie “Dal-bong,” and we burst out laughing.

“Nice to see you, Soufflé!”

“Ah, it’s really you guys—omg...”

“Why are you crying?”

We laughed as she wiped tears. Time was short, so we kept it brief but encouraged her, knowing her art-school ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) exams would be tough.

As trainee veterans, we knew well the unease of preparing without guarantee. Her face brightened.

“I’ll keep this video as a treasure!”

“Well, maybe not a treasure—”

“Yes! Your faces should be seen for generations.”

Both siblings seemed to have a knack for variety shows—anything they said made us laugh.

Wrapping up, I added,

“We usually can’t do calls because of recording, but your brother asked, so we made it happen.”

“Really?”

After goodbyes, Sang-kyung said, “I’ll do better, oppa,” making us laugh. She ended the call:

“It’s the first time I’ve heard ‘opp a’ since you enlisted.”

Then she bowed.

“Thank you—truly.”

“...?”

“My spirits were low preparing for art school, but thanks to NewBlack, I’ve felt better. Every song feels like it’s about me.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“I used to be so down every outing—I worried. But I feel much freer now. Thank you.”

“No, we’re the grateful ones.”

Her words made us smile. This is the greatest reward as singers: knowing our songs bring someone joy or comfort, that we can lift someone’s mood.

“You feel good.”

“Me too, hyung.”

“Now that Soufflé’s prayed for us, let’s make Album 4 great.”

Walking through the garden with Jung-hyun, we laughed. Thanks to that call, ideas for our fourth album poured out.

“Don’t you feel like we have endless energy?”

“Me too.”

Then Jung-hyun, puzzled, said,

“But hyung—”

“Yeah?”

“Doesn’t this feel less exhausting than we expected?”

“What do you mean, Jung-hyun? Unlike you androids—”

I paused mid-complaint. He had a point. Though intense, my stamina hadn’t yet faltered.

It was odd. Muscular Han-jo was wiped out, ace Park Ho-beom was queasy, but only Jung-hyun and I stayed unscathed. I’d heard dozen praises for endurance, yet never before.

“Strange—did our stamina improve?”

“What’s the reason?”

“I don’t know...”

We pondered long but found no answer.

Lemon Entertainment.

In the basement practice room, two idols lay panting.

“Nngh...”

“I miss the girls...”

Ri-hyuk and Ji-ho flopped like two worms, gasping.

‘I’m dying.’

‘So exhausting...’

Then a shadow like squid tentacles passed over them.

“Hey, you two~”

At the gentle voice, they froze in fear.

“Time’s up. Practice time’s over?”

“Nope. Let’s practice.”

“Aaah...”

Viju smiled as he pulled them up.

“We’ve got to work harder when it’s just us.”

“...”

“It’s nothing compared to what Woo-ju and Jung-hyun endure in special forces. Our dance practice is nothing.”

They nodded silently and resumed choreography practice, unaware of the truth: that Woo-ju’s uncanny stamina came from his burning drive—a sincere, if misdirected, desire to practice harder.