In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“The beginning was actually the end of last week’s episode.”

In the army’s forward battalion, having completed their training, the members of A Man’s Journey stood at the main gate with their backpacks on.

With reddened eyes, they embraced each other.

“Look how teary-eyed he is. Didn’t Uju hyung do that at the airport last time, too?”

“He did.”

Of course, the meaning was entirely different.

Those tears then were tears of regret, but at that moment mine were tears of joy at being free. Even now, I was ignoring texts in the First Team group chat saying, “Uju, are you watching?”

“I want chicken.”

“I’ll have fried udon.”

My brothers had already moved on from tears to talking about food. I glanced at Rihyuk, who was holding the tablet PC.

It showed live viewer comments, but it was eerily quiet.

“Not many reactions,” I said.

“They say ratings have dropped a lot lately. Too much sentimental code, too much deep-meaning direction.”

“Oh...”

Indeed, the broadcast did feel a bit flat—sentimental BGM, heartfelt embraces, memories of the past three nights and four days flashing by. From a viewer’s perspective, it was subdued. Variety shows aren’t programs you carve out time to watch; you watch them when time allows. No wonder the ratings dipped.

Rihyuk chimed in.

“But it doesn’t overlap with Masterpiece Band’s slot, so the drop isn’t that severe.”

“True—if it did overlap with Masterpiece Band...”

Masterpiece Band was still riding high. Even if it no longer sparked the frenzy it once did, it held third place in ratings. A Man’s Journey, by contrast, was sliding downward. On other shows, comments pour in by the dozens every second; here, it was a trickle.

Public sentiment was bad. It wasn’t that the content was unfunny—viewers were simply weary of the show’s usual earnest, tear-jerker approach and were shouting “Junki, step aside!” in anger.

“It’s brutal...”

On top of that, comments demanding “Bring out NewBlack already!” made us, the ones eating sweet potatoes, squirm in our seats. We felt like we needed to burst out there and dance to placate them.

After that long seven-minute segment ended:

A preview for today’s episode played: Hanjoo and I screaming as we did push-ups, Junghyun smiling, “I really enjoyed it,” explosives going off, the cast entering in Special Forces gear, someone rappelling down in Special Forces uniforms.

“Oh, that back view is Uju hyung. Uju hyung—need to capture...”

“It’s me.”

At Junghyun’s answer, Bijoo’s eyes nearly popped, then our bear cracked a joke, and Bijoo relaxed.

“Wow, the comment section suddenly got tame.”

The preview must’ve worked—comments calmed drastically. On screen, keyboard clicks played alongside text: date, time, channel, and an office set. They were doing a pre-interview with today’s guests. I sat in a sponsored T-shirt, and Jiho burst out laughing at his phone.

“What’s so funny?”

“Soufflés recognized your plain clothes as sponsorship immediately.”

“...”

“They say you look great in a white tee. They want you to wear only sponsored clothes forever.”

My introduction followed:

[Leader of NewBlack, the driving force behind the Hallyu wave and rising K-pop idol!]

[Uju!]

Please, stop.

Ugh.

Every flashing subtitle made my limbs curl under the blanket like T-rex claws.

“Oh, so embarrassing.”

“Since when did we become the vanguard of the Hallyu wave?”

“So awkward.”

My brothers, wrapped in blankets, groaned. On screen, concert clips and us rummaging for sweet potatoes under the blankets contrasted hilariously. Rihyuk, embarrassed, buried himself under his blanket and shoved a sweet potato through the gap.

The pre-interview continued on screen.

“Hyung, you look so down.”

“Rewatching it, I feel sorry for you, hyung. You cried back then because you didn’t want to go to the army.”

Although I was smiling, my brothers—who’d lived with me for over a year and a half—knew the truth. When they asked if there was anyone I wanted to bring along, I calmly declined, and their eyes shifted. As they looked at me with moved expressions:

[I’m not going to the army?]

On screen, I broke into a genuine, bright smile.

“...”

My face as I teamed up with PD Do Junki, determined to sneak them all in the show, began to play.

“That’s misleading.”

“...”

“It was just for entertainment. I wouldn’t really take you all...”

On screen, I said:

[I’d love to take you all! Hahaha!]

Faces peered out from under blankets, pouting. I waved my hands, stammering an explanation. I had no memory of what I’d said in that fluster.

“Of course I wouldn’t actually take you! That wasn’t sincere...”

[I’m more sincere than ever. I am.]

“Because the PD kept pushing it...”

[PD-nim, how about choosing via lottery instead?]

“It’s a broadcast, so of course you need plenty of MSG....”

[Please edit that out. It’s a secret from our kids.]

“Aaah!”

I yelled at my past self.

“Hey! Silence!”

[When I get excited, I talk too much. Hehe.]

Every time I spoke, I sank deeper, and my brothers snickered. On the TV, the A Man’s Journey crew teased with a subtitle: “Uju-ssi, sorry for breaking the secret~”

Meanwhile, viewer reactions suddenly improved. People seemed charmed by our goofy camaraderie, and smiling emojis multiplied in the comment section.

As PD Do Junki and I exchanged farewells, a close-up of a vibrating phone appeared.

[PD-nim.]

[Uju.]

We beamed at each other under a fate-driven BGM. Someone named Hanjoo was sending polite curses, even a trash bag photo telling us to climb in. Our fateful eye contact continued.

[Is this destiny?]

[It’s destiny.]

[Destiny...]

[Destiny?]

We high-fived, and on screen I answered the call. Then...

A Hanjoo, looking as if his country had been lost, appeared on screen. At that moment, the comment flow quickened.

On an internet forum:

「Found ₩50,000 under the sofa while cleaning.gif」

Drawn by the quirky title, people clicked and burst out laughing. It was a newly posted GIF. Familiar NewBlack faces and a young man looked at a ringing phone.

[At that moment, a fateful call!] flashed on screen, and they laughed as if they’d found fifty thousand won.

Interest in A Man’s Journey swelled as the meme spread to idol communities.

Every time Uju hurled a dart, reservists cheered, umbrella lightsticks waving. From the guest introduction onward, viewers were already laughing.

Fans laughed and made GIFs every time a member appeared. When the chosen guest, Junghyun, and Rihyuk, who thought it was him, wailed:

Screenshots of Junghyun hiding his head under his T-shirt hole spread across articles.

Director Yoon Seokhwan at home began massaging his temples. The show’s ratings graph was curving upward—word must’ve spread about the show’s newfound levity. The broadcast moved to Uju and Hanjoo entering reservist training and Junghyun’s basic training.

Hanjoo’s “Ahhh!” as he rolled on the ground was painful to watch.

Junghyun flew through basic training with dignity, prompting smiles from the instructors. He disassembled weapons like a craftsman and shot perfectly.

Junghyun’s angular face beneath the helmet appeared. As he brushed mud from his cheek and jaw, “NewBlack Junghyun” trended in real-time search, and he beamed with satisfaction.

“Oh—my name’s trending.”

“...”

“I have to send this to our parents.”

While the NewBlack members ate boiled sweet potatoes with glum faces in the dorm, Uju, Hanjoo, and Junghyun’s guest segments flew by. Viewers wondered, “It’s fun, but they skip too quickly.” There wasn’t a wasted moment—everything was laugh-worthy or fascinating, yet it passed rapidly. Usually they’d extend guest intros, but the A Man’s Journey crew boldly showed only what was needed, amplifying curiosity.

Next, the airport meeting of cast and guests. After banter in the opening, they moved from Incheon Airport to the Special Police Force. Initially they told them to bring passports, leaving eager faces, which gradually turned anxious. Viewers, knowing what awaited, simply laughed as the “Special Police Force” sign appeared with intense BGM and a video explanation of the unit.

Then came push-ups with gravel: sweat-soaked Uju doing PT as the instructors watched.

Contrary to their fierce first impression, the Special Forces members were cute, calling out, “Oh, oh, number eight pose!” Even when offered rope climbing as a reward, they looked shy. Tactical Team One, almost overshadowing the guests, drew attention.

Yet the biggest star of episode one was the trainee who’d captured everyone’s hearts.

[Number 8. Are you happy?]

[Haaaaah!]

[Happy enough to scream?]

[Hraaaah!]

Trainee number eight writhed in protest. Each roll elicited laughter from the Special Forces and relieved onlookers. And deservedly so—he expressed agony yet performed every movement flawlessly.

In afternoon rappel training—descending a building exterior on a single rope—cast members screamed in terror. Uju trembled, perched on the roof’s edge, legs shaking, until...

“Hraaaah!” he flawlessly launched into a perfect descent. The instructors and cast alike wore question-mark expressions, and so did viewers.

After a moment’s silence, instructors beamed with pride as Uju sat on the ground, face pale under the shadow of the Special Forces. Uju, having dug his own grave again, writhed in pain while...

“Hahaha!”

PD Do Junki, lurking near TBC’s control room, grinned broadly. Ratings were rising. And while he smiled, the ones most delighted by Uju’s rolling were...

“Ah, this is healing.”

“A Man’s Journey is actually a healing variety show?”

“I’ll save this and rewatch it. Watching Uju roll is sad but....”

“Oh dear, it’s pitiful—hehe.”

Lemon Entertainment’s A&R team, amid album production, paused to watch and laugh at Uju’s tumbles.

“Poor Uju.”

“Uju’s working hard~”

“Oh....”

Despite their sympathy, each “Hraaaah!” during his rappel brought them satisfied smiles.

The show flowed on: highlight-packed training ended, they received black uniforms and chatted with Special Forces members. As this rich content passed, the preview for day two began.

Next week’s preview showed the snake instructor shrieking, drawing focus. Compared to the relatively tame first part, part two brimmed with excitement. The most attention-grabbing moment was...

In a fleeting few seconds, Uju used someone’s center of gravity to perform a bizarre takedown. It passed so quickly some viewers hunted for the VOD immediately, yet the afterimage was strong—like a scene from an action film, a unique subdual.

Amid universal curiosity, someone noticed:

Los Angeles, USA.

On a Hollywood set adapting a famous musical into film, actors and dancers received direction in front of a green screen. Director John Edwards sat in a chair, phone in hand.

“Hmm...”

“Is something wrong?” the stunt coordinator asked.

John turned the phone around.

“This.”

“Huh...?”

“They say online this looks like our film’s action sequence.”

“Really?”

The clip showed a handsome man in special-ops gear using his opponent’s strength as a lever to execute a neck lock. It was the same skill the protagonist used in their earlier film, Code Name 17, to subdue a hulking villain.

John narrowed his eyes.

“How did they do that? We used wires...”

“Exactly. I thought it was only possible in theory... What show is this?”

“It’s Korean.”

“A stunt actor...?”

As the two men marvelled at the odd scene from a foreign variety show, choreographer Clay Tyler—who’d been directing dancers—approached with a cheerful laugh.

“What are you watching... Hraaaah!”

Clay recoiled in horror at the screen, blinking furiously.

“What...?”

For a moment, they wondered. Then John Edwards fixed his gaze on the figure on screen, performing that bizarre move.