In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The first part of A Man’s Journey that we appeared in was an absolute jackpot.

-[Oh! Focus] Why the “A Man’s Journey” Special Forces Edition Has Everyone Excited

-Next Week’s “A Man’s Journey” Preview Sparks Netizen Curiosity... “Uju’s Mystery”

-Netizens Explode Over Special Forces Edition; Ratings Climb

The moment the broadcast ended, articles began flooding in like mad. It felt as if every entertainment reporter in the country wrote nothing but about A Man’s Journey. From ranks one through five in the portal’s entertainment section were all articles about the show. In an instant, comments shot up by hundreds at a time. The moment you liked [N O V E L I G H T] one comment, it was already pushed to page three by newer ones.

“What the heck?”

Even Seokhwan hyung—who rarely gets excited—called me up, spouting unintelligible words.

“Does Junghyun eat squid? No, you’re babbling. I didn’t mishear.”

–Junghyun...!

“Hold on.”

I held out my phone so the brothers could hear it. The maknae, leaning in, demonstrated astonishing listening skills.

“Jeegu sene sire amageddon rolling jimallang.”

“Oh.”

I understood immediately.

“It’s telling us not to post anything on SNS right now.”

Rihyuk blinked.

“How did you catch that?”

“You’ve been listening to that hyung’s voice for over five years.”

Seokhwan hyung, now calm, reminded us, “You have countless eyes and ears on you. Be careful on social media.” He meant that, with nationwide attention, we shouldn’t act rashly. He recalled when an actor once got swept up in variety-show fame and posted something controversial, only for it to be turned into a scandal by reporters. That actor later joked on live TV, “I made ten billion won in ad deals today,” but it backfired. Attention is a double-edged sword; wonderful interest can instantly flip into just as much negativity. Our maknae promptly turned off his phone.

“Why’d you power it down?”

“I feel like if I get a message or call, I’ll say something wrong. So I’m preventing that.”

“As expected of our maknae—knows himself so well.”

I ruffled his blanket-wrapped head proudly. We all switched off our phones except the shared one for company communications and official SNS, then monitored the online reactions.

“The response really is amazing.”

“Basically, hyung’s carried most of the airtime. Viewers are joking that you’re the show’s ‘Runtime Alchemist.’”

We laughed at the maknae’s joke. Although the regular cast and other guests contributed, scenes featuring me were stealing the spotlight.

-‘NewBlack’s Uju’—First-Major Contributor to Special Forces Edition?

-Athletic Genius Uju... Why He’s Called ‘Jumong’ on Radar

-[Inside Entertainment] Bright Energy & Positivity: The Secrets That Captivated ‘A Man’s Journey’ Viewers

The last was by journalist Oh Sohee, known among our fans as “SoPlea.” Though the fanboy in me cringed at the reverent headlines, the response was undeniably strong.

-LOL I laughed so hard today

-Chemistry with the Special Forces is insane—Encore?

┕It’s satanic. Literally Satan.

-Instructor: Number 8 Trainee, descent!

┕Uju: Haaaaah!!! Hremduldgguk!! (Perfect form)

┕LOL

┕This comment is hands-down the best

┕Bursting with humanity

-As a critic, I give five stars: “A delicate tightrope walk between humanity and clumsiness.”

-LOL “Moderation is best in the army” is a great saying, but you didn’t follow it.

-I always felt when I watch Uju, I feel good.

-Yeah, you radiate bright energy.

The blanket-monsters who had been draping themselves over me paused at that last comment, looking at me with half-lidded eyes, as if to say, “Bright energy? You hear that?”

“Capture that. Capture this one, too. And that one.”

Our main dancer, the most excited of us, feverishly captured article after article.

Rihyuk asked, “They’re all compliments—why capture them?”

“No. You have to keep moments you’re proud of.”

Hearts swelling, Bijoo happily snapped screenshots of my article comments. Junghyun pointed at one comment.

“‘Junghyun’s uniform fit is top-notch.’ Should I capture that?”

“No.”

Junghyun’s lips puckered at the flat refusal.

“That’s harsh.”

“I’ll give you another sweet potato.”

“Thanks.”

Our little bear, blissfully munching his sweet potato, then pointed to the screen.

“There seems to be no end to these articles. It’s like I’m reading volumes one through twenty of a biography on hyung.”

“It really is endless.”

Articles kept pouring in. By page two, the ones we’d seen earlier had already been bumped back to page one, making it hard to skim through. Ninety percent were about me.

“But didn’t you say the weird stuff I did shows up mostly in part two?”

“That’s right.”

“Like throwing boomerangs and hitting the instructor with ice cream?”

“That was a bet. A bet.”

He’s twisting reality. But if part one’s reaction was this intense, part two needed no explanation.

“I’m dizzy with it all...”

I was stunned by the unceasing wave of articles. Thankfully, we’d finished filming A Man’s Journey; otherwise, I’d have spent the night tossing and turning. From all sides, people seemed to be asking, “Will you make a bigger splash next episode?” It was the first time I felt attention as a burden. Normally I’d think, “Hehe, people are interested!” but this far exceeded the threshold. I steadied myself with a deep breath.

“...”

I realized this was how variety-show talents must feel under the spotlight. A moment of respect for them. We’re preparing an album, but these entertainers have to keep their buzz alive in real time.

“I’m glad I’m a singer.”

“Why say that now?”

“If I were a full-time entertainer, I don’t think I’d handle this well...”

My brothers exchanged looks, then shook their heads.

“No—you’d have crushed it.”

“You’d have topped Variety School.”

Sometimes I wonder what they think of me. Suppressing the mounting pressure, I smiled.

“Well, this is just today. After tomorrow, it’ll calm down.”

That was my mistake.

The reaction to A Man’s Journey was record-breaking. Even glancing at my phone made it clear—messages poured in so fast replying was impossible. Nine hundred arrived on broadcast day, and just as many the next.

“...”

I wondered if I should send an auto-reply: “Thank you for your support. I’ll always work hard and stay true to myself.” Especially since it’s a military-themed show, messages from old army friends flooded in, mostly asking, “How’s your body?” Understandably—because in the army, my atrocious coordination meant I was either “pretty useless” or treated like fine dust.

Eunseong [I demand an explanation from Sun Uju]

Eunseong [Explain yourself]

Our friend Eunseong dragged every close buddy into the group chat, chanting “Explain!” They clamored, accusing us of deception, even posting announcements like [No feast; we demand the truth].

“...”

I privately sent Eunseong the trash-bag photo Hanjoo gave me and told him to climb in. I ignored his reply. Having distracted the army buddies with promises of dinner, I faced another formidable foe.

My Deoksoon [Who is this]

My Deoksoon [I didn’t raise a grandson like him]

Me [True]

Me [I raised myself well...!]

Me [๑•‿•๑]

My Deoksoon [Such shamelessness]

Me [That’s too much]

I renamed her “Your Deoksoon” for a day. Meanwhile, beyond online, I felt A Man’s Journey’s popularity everywhere.

“Number 8!”

“Number 8, Number 8!”

“Can I take a picture mimicking the rappel stance?”

Even walking down the street, people recognized me. Although they called me “Number 8” instead of my name, it felt good to bask in this after-show glow. It was like getting our name out again before album and concert prep.

“Wow, it’s a celebrity!”

“It is a celebrity.”

“...This is embarrassing, hyungs.”

At a band rehearsal space in Hongdae, the session musicians for our concert teased, “Big star alert!” When Junghyun and Jiho went “Number 8, descent!” and “Hraaaak!” everyone doubled over laughing.

The drummer chuckled, “Seriously, that was epic. You landed a big one.”

“They keep talking about you everywhere.”

“At the gopchang restaurant last time, people were discussing NewBlack at the next table.”

We beamed at the band members’ reports. We’d been too busy to notice, but clearly, something was happening. We reveled briefly, then shook off the dizzy euphoria. Now more than ever, we had to stay focused.

“Shall we start rehearsal?”

We studied the charts while the band played. For our first concert, eighty percent of songs would be with live band session, twenty percent with MR. High-electro tracks and “Nine” would be MR; the rest would be rich live sound.

“With the drums, can we bring them in a bit faster here?”

“Sure—about half a beat ahead.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, exactly. And Jiho will circle the stage to enter here; if the movement is synced, it’ll look great.”

Every time we gave feedback, they adjusted flawlessly. They’d played big shows with other artists, and their veteran vibes showed—telling us how the venue’s acoustics would carry the sound. Their support eased our concert jitters.

As we methodically prepped, the promotions team summoned us.

“I have one good piece of news and one bad.”

“Bad news first.”

Deputy Manager Hong smiled awkwardly.

“The Olympic recording is set for August 10 this year.”

“Ah...”

“They specifically requested you. They said you boosted ‘A Man’s Journey’ ratings and will give you ample airtime.”

Even though the network promised lots of coverage, I wasn’t thrilled.

Rihyuk asked, “Chuseok is late September, right? If it airs around the 28th or 29th, why record in mid-August?”

“Seems they scheduled it early this year.”

“August 10 is two weeks before our concert...”

In our busiest moment—concert and new-stage prep—the TBC Olympics loomed. A full-day commitment. Usually I’d have no objection, but with the concert looming, I wanted to avoid any risky schedule. Being in one place for nearly 24 hours would sap our condition. Yet we couldn’t skip: TBC’s year-end music festival and music shows were at stake.

“Of all times, it clashes with our concert...”

“But didn’t they say it’s okay if you can’t make it?”

I’d secretly hoped they’d let us skip, recognizing our contribution. But I was naïve.

“Even though you tactfully declined because of the concert, they still insisted—offering lots of airtime if you show up.”

“...”

“The PD directing is the same person who does the music show.”

Indeed, the network thought differently from ordinary people:

(NewBlack boosted A Man’s Journey ratings) → (They hesitate due to concert prep.) → (Offer more coverage to make them come)

I couldn’t help but be impressed by the logic. I forced a sheepish smile at Deputy Director Hong.

“Then we’ll have to succeed even more.”

Even if we said ‘We can’t attend’ like TNT, the network would think, ‘They must be busy...’ So we needed to grow bigger. Reaffirming that goal, we sought alternatives.

“Can we at least minimize physical events? Only archery. No futsal, basketball, or running.”

“That might work.”

“We’d like to limit the number of disciplines.”

As we found common ground, the maknae, lost in thought, spoke in wonder.

“But it is strange.”

“What is?”

“At first, we fought so hard to enter every event.”

“Yeah, that’s true...”

Six months ago, we’d done anything to appear in even one more Olympic segment. Now, we’d grown enough to no longer chase the Olympics. We shared misty smiles.

‘We’ve grown....’

‘We’ve become great artists.’

Plus, our allocated fan section had nearly doubled in six months. We hadn’t noticed because we were always together, but this proved we’d truly expanded.

Having ended the Olympic discussion, I asked,

“What’s the good news?”

“There are two things. First, look at all the ad contracts you’ve received.”

“Wow...!”

Thanks to A Man’s Journey’s buzz, brand partnerships poured in. Famous names filled the list, and our brothers’ eyes sparkled.

“They want to finalize contracts quickly before part two airs. Because the buzz will be even bigger then.”

“Oh...”

“Of course, your endorsement fees are already high.”

I blanked at the numbers—they flitted in and out like half-drunk juice running off my ears.

“How much exactly?”

“That’s the honest truth. Deputy?”

At the talk of billions, we gasped in unison. Deputy Hong said,

“Strictly speaking, it’s the recognition you’ve built up that’s exploding right now.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to hire TNT or Teen Spirit for ads with that budget?”

“Not at all. You’re far more effective.”

“...?”

“In purely advertising terms, you’re the top boy group.”

Momentarily I thought, What top? The deputy continued.

“A while ago, the ad industry surveyed boy-group awareness and likability—you ranked first overall.”

“...”

“Your position is extremely rare. Girl groups have many with mass appeal, but boy groups—even top-tier ones—are often unrecognizable individually. People know TNT, but unless it’s someone like Han Taehyun, they don’t know the members. Meanwhile...”

“You say everyone recognizes our faces?”

“Older viewers know you from Masterpiece Band; 20–30s know you from History Exploration team and various variety shows.”

Other groups have larger fandoms, but in terms of general appeal, you’re currently the leading boy group. My heart raced, yet I felt a soft warmth.

“So, what do you think about these ad offers?”

“Um...”

As I scanned the list, I said,

“Most are for individual endorsements—me or Junghyun alone.”

“That figures.”

“We’d prefer ads featuring all of us together. Individual ads still feel... off.”

By contract, individual ad income goes to the individual, so I’d personally profit. But that’s not my goal. Our priority is elevating NewBlack as a whole.

“Let’s do group ads,” I said.

“You bet. Why wouldn’t we?”

“If you feel guilty about pocketing all the money, just split it evenly among us.”

“Wow, we’ll be rolling in it...”

I just smiled at my capitalist brothers. They pretended to be lured by the N-split, but they seemed to mean, “Don’t worry about me—go for it.” I shook my head.

“We’ll only have time if it fits our schedule, but if there’s an ad with all of us, please prioritize it.”

“We’ll consider it based on your availability; you’re all busy.”

“Thank you. By the way, you mentioned two pieces of good news—what’s the other one?”

“Oh, that.”

Hong tapped on his laptop and turned the screen toward us.

“This.”

“...?”

Onscreen was an SNS feed. Below the blue bird logo appeared an English-language tweet.

“John Edwards...?”

“Who’s that?”

It began with a tweet from a famous Hollywood director.

@John_Edwards ⓥ

(A 17-second video: after a clip from Code Name 17, someone in tactical black uses a unique move to subdue a Special Forces soldier.)

[Show Translation] Wow. That’s possible.

Below it, another tweet read, “We used wires on set—how did he do that barehanded?” A familiar retweet account appeared:

@Olive_House_Official

(A photo of NewBlack, Olive House’s Korean ad model.)

[Show Translation] That’s our promo model.

A perfect example of niche marketing. Director John Edwards’s tweet quickly spread in the Anglosphere. In Korea, TNT’s Han Mo even retweeted it.

“...What is happening?”

“What’s the situation here?”

It was bewildering. Apparently, John Edwards in LA asked his agent, “Who is this? It’s amazing—find out.” He soon got back, “He’s Uju from a K-pop group called NewBlack.”

“So the director got curious and started watching NewBlack’s performances,” I said.

Hong nodded. Then we learned: “They want to set up a meeting.”

We found ourselves in the meeting room of the film’s distributor, “Tree.” Seokhwan hyung and I sat while a distributor rep explained how the meeting came about. As we nibbled on refreshments, we whispered to each other.

“Why suddenly us? A cameo in the movie...?”

“But filming wrapped months ago.”

“Oh, right.”

Our maknae, briefly dreaming of Hollywood, looked slightly deflated. The conference room was set for a video call. When the distributor and our company reps had taken seats, the call connected.

“Hm, is this on... Oh, there it is.”

On the screen was a middle-aged man seated cross-legged on a folding chair, in what looked like a shoot location. He had brown hair and a sturdy, Viking-like build—just as in the photos.

Director John Edwards greeted us with a smile.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello! We’re NewBlack!”

Our maknae’s eyes lit up as he beamed, “You—look at me!” The director laughed. It was surreal to talk face-to-face with someone halfway around the globe.

The call stuttered slightly, so we took turns speaking carefully, exchanging pleasantries like, “Nice to meet you.” Then the director got to the point.

“I’m shooting a musical film right now, and I’d love to discuss a project with NewBlack.”

A project? Just then, behind him, I spotted a familiar figure among the crew—a lithe dancer moving rhythmically with his daughter.

“Uh... isn’t that Clay and Joy?” I asked.

John looked over, brightened, and called, “Clay! NewBlack’s here!” In a flash, Clay and his daughter vanished like ghosts.

“They’re quick,” Rihyuk marveled.

“You saw that afterimage, right?”

I’d hoped to greet them, but duty came first. Calmly smiling, the director invited my question.

“So... what project do you have in mind for us?”