In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

PBS Public Hall.

The musical director, flipping through the cue sheet, picked up the microphone.

“NewBlack, let’s run the final rehearsal one more time.”

“Yes!”

With eager responses, NewBlack took the stage.

Rehearsal began immediately. As they sang, the writers sat below the stage with notebooks in hand, ready to note any adjustments needed before the broadcast—camera angles, stage presence, and so on.

But...

...no one moved their pens. The writers stared at each other.

“What did you write?”

“Nothing. I don’t think there’s any feedback to give...”

“Same here. Nothing stands out.”

On this flawless stage, someone remarked, “When they first appeared, we had all sorts of notes. Was that last spring?”

“They’ve really grown.”

“Like a country puppy—born a puppy at Lunar New Year, then an adult dog by Chuseok.”

The writers laughed at the joke. Thanks to this perfect boy group, their job had become much easier.

“They’re really good. But...” The chief writer’s attention was drawn to Ri-hyuk handling his gaze toward the audience and cameras with a gentle smile.

“It’s because they held a concert, right? Whenever idols do their own concert, their stage skills jump.”

“They were known for being good even at that music show.”

“To be honest, they’ve been great since their debut. It’s not just talk now.”

The youngest member’s playful finger-pointing at the camera overlapped with last year’s memories. They hadn’t thought, “They got good,” only later—they’d recognized it from the start.

‘They’re going to make it big.’

After seeing top performers every week, you develop an eye for stage presence. Teams that seem special always rise eventually. NewBlack was one of them.

“But I didn’t expect them to blow up this fast. Did you see outside on the way in? Their fans were lining up like crazy.”

“I thought they were here to record TNT on another show. Those were their fans?”

“Yes.”

“Wow...”

They were like watching a chick and expecting a chicken, then an ostrich [N O V E L I G H T] shows up saying hi—an absurd growth spurt. And recently they’d even made waves with the musical film OST “Thousand Dreams.”

“Next song, one more run: Thousand Dreams.”

“Yes!”

As NewBlack rehearsed the OST from Nostalgia, the writers’ expressions melted.

“It’s so good.”

Woo-ju’s low voice filled the hall, soothing their eardrums.

“Ha, look at the MC—he’s got his eyes closed.”

In the audience, the bespectacled pianist-composer Ha Seung-ju sat with his eyes shut, nodding along. He was famous for being strict on stage, but a satisfied smile played on his lips.

“This song is incredible. I wonder if the movie is good too.”

“A friend saw it and said it’s awesome. I’m planning to go this weekend.”

“Tickets are scarce now that word of mouth spread.”

After talking about the soon-to-be 3 million–selling musical film, their gaze on Viju and Jung-hyun singing to each other—and the rest of NewBlack—shifted.

“There’s a real sense of distance now.”

Perhaps it was their polished skills and rapid growth; in the pre-interview they’d seemed cute, but now there was a respectful distance.

“Great job today!”

The five descended the stage calmly, looking serious as they faced each other. The atmosphere was tense. The members stared at their leader. Just as the writers wondered if something had gone wrong, Woo-ju took a deep breath, then quickly pulled something from his pocket.

“Chocolate tip!”

“Tip!”

“Tiip!”

The writers blinked. Woo-ju broke the chocolate into pieces and passed them around. Ri-hyuk said logically, “Tell us the origin of ‘tip’ and share some with me.”

“I already know~”

“Ri-hyuk goes last.”

“Ha ha!”

Then, chirping “Let’s get feedback from the writers~,” NewBlack cheerfully walked over. Woo-ju leaned in like a smuggler and whispered to the writers, “Anyone want a sugar boost?” The writers laughed and raised their hands.

“Try these. I brought them from Malaysia.”

“Thank you.”

“As you can see, the Twin Towers are engraved on the surface. Neat, right?”

Chattering happily among themselves, NewBlack’s warmth made the writers smile. They were as genuine as ever.

It felt good to appear on a music program again.

“Wow! NewBlack is hot—so hot!”

“Hot! Hot!”

Comedian Kim Cheol, who’d come to our waiting room, danced along with us. He’d served as pre-MC on the music show before, and we’d become friends during that recording. He offered a cue card.

“Let’s get our popular idols to sign these.”

“Yes!”

We gathered around the card with markers.

“Woo-ju, your spaceship signature keeps evolving. By next year you’ll have a launch pad.”

“Right? Now it takes three seconds to draw.”

“Three seconds?”

“Want to see?”

He drew a rocket in three seconds, and Kim Cheol gave him a thumbs-up in respect.

“All right, good luck today! Fighting!”

“Thank you!”

“See you later~”

He left with the signed cards, planning to use them as quiz prizes. The youngest checked the clock.

“The audience must all be seated by now.”

“Yeah.”

We nodded and turned to the TV. Having spent a month on a similar competition show, we’d learned the timeline: what the producers do at this time, how the set looks now...

“Here’s a rare item, rare item!”

The pre-MC, like a medicine peddler, hyped the crowd on the broadcast.

“This is an ultra-limited NewBlack autograph! There’s a story behind this edition.”

Viju said,

“Hyung, I really want to buy our own autograph.”

“Me too.”

“Why do I want to buy what I wrote?”

Enchanted by the banter, I almost dialed like on a home-shopping channel. Meanwhile, we heard clicking from the next room—Jo Yuri Band was moving to the hall for their recording.

Soon the live taping began. Ha Seung-ju introduced,

“Next up are true heavyweights of the streaming charts. In Hongdae they say you’re a spy if you don’t know them. It’s their second visit to Music Cafe.”

“Please welcome Jo Yuri Band!”

The audience applauded as Jo Yuri Band performed on screen.

“Oh, that bass... great song.”

“They were good on that music show too.”

“It feels like it’s been a while.”

As a famous indie band, they were as skilled as ever. We’d been awkward at first on Music Cafe, but now we barely noticed them—and they seemed more uneasy around us.

After our segment, viewers said NewBlack’s popularity soared after Music Cafe season two.

“Five hundred won, five hundred won~”

We hummed along, loosened our voices, and sipped water. The recording would last about three hours, and today’s lineup was us, Jo Yuri Band, and ballad singer The Moon—roughly an hour each. That meant waiting until at least nine o’clock.

We watched TV and mentally rehearsed what we’d say on the music program.

“Harmonize well. I’ll give the cue.”

“Got it.”

“And that part is slightly faster. Don’t let the vocals speed up with the moves.”

Those were the main vocalist’s last reminders as we passed the time.

“NewBlack members!”

As The Moon’s segment ended, the FD called us.

“We’re ready!”

“Yes!”

We sprang up, excitement shining. Backstage, we put our hands together.

“No more past mistakes.”

“No jokes today. Forbidden.”

“Let’s be cool.”

We reaffirmed, but the managers laughed and said,

“Just do you.”

We shook our heads firmly.

“Today we’ll be completely serious.”

Music Cafe with Ha Seung-ju, episode 335. After The Moon’s performance, Ha Seung-ju in a stylish suit took the mic.

“We really had to work hard to book these next guests. Their schedules are notoriously busy.”

The camera panned to the audience, couples whispering, “Who is it?” Then young fans cupped their hands and cheered, and older viewers nodded when their children whispered. Ha Seung-ju glanced at his watch.

“What time is it, everyone?”

“Nine o’clock!”

“A perfect time for a song. Here’s NewBlack’s ‘Nine.’ Enjoy!”

Cheers and applause filled the hall as the stage lights went dark, then slowly glowed. Wine-red lights spilled across the stage. NewBlack sat by the piano in neat casual suits. The main vocalist wore a vest like a bartender; the others sat beside him. In front of the piano sat the leader. All eyes focused on his long, white fingers stretched out over the keys.

‘What’s this?’

Young viewers furrowed their brows—this wasn’t the electro vibe they expected from “Nine.” Then a slow, gentle piano intro played, like jazz in a rainy-day café. Each keystroke turned “Nine” into an emotive jazz melody. At that moment, the main vocalist flipped his hair back, closed his eyes, and hummed “woooo.” Smiles spread through the audience.

‘This is perfect for this time.’

As the piano deepened, the members added harmonies. The audience clapped along, and the main vocalist’s timbre grew richer. Then,

“Oh...”

He lifted into an ad-lib high note. At that instant, Woo-ju lifted his hands from the grand piano keys, and the mood shifted 180 degrees.

Tsutsutsu—

A joyous jazz rhythm on drums broke the tension. The awaiting applause filled the hall. Woo-ju removed the mic from its stand and stood, the others rising with bright smiles.

“Hello, everyone!”

“We are NewBlack!”

As the live band played the jazz version of “Nine,” the members clapped above their heads to hype the crowd.

“All together now!”

The sub-vocalist winked, and middle-aged viewers clapped with warm smiles. The young crowd exchanged astonished glances.

‘So strange, but it still feels like “Nine.”’

Among them, one person watching from the side smiled, thinking, ‘Smart arrangement.’ Ha Seung-ju, at center stage, watched Woo-ju’s gestures.

‘They arranged it cleverly.’

Though most viewers were young, there were plenty of middle-aged fans. An electro-heavy song like “Nine” would struggle with that audience. They might clap politely but wonder, ‘What is this?’ And young viewers on this program weren’t necessarily idol fans. Usually guests bring a ballad or cover. Yet this idol group reimagined their title track for a single appearance—impressive dedication.

‘I wonder if it works.’

The arrangement was tight, but they couldn’t have done it alone. They must have had help with production. Ha Seung-ju murmured,

“They must have worked the Lemon Entertainment production team to the bone...”

He paused to mourn for the overworked producers.

“Welcome to Music Cafe. We are NewBlack.”

“Thank you.”

We counted “two, three” and greeted, prompting thunderous applause. Ha Seung-ju peered over his glasses at the audience.

“You’re incredibly popular. That was an amazing performance.”

“Oh, not at all.”

“I expected an electronic sound for ‘Nine,’ so the jazz surprise was delightful.”

As he teased, I took the mic.

“We prepared this stage especially for Music Cafe.”

“I heard you arranged it yourselves.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

The audience murmured approval, and I gave a shy smile. Ha Seung-ju laughed.

“To some you may look like a handsome bunch, but NewBlack has so much to talk about musically.”

“That’s right!”

“We have plenty to share!”

My younger brothers spread their arms wide, making people laugh. He asked,

“How does it feel to be on your second appearance?”

“I’m very nervous.”

I held the mic and looked at the audience.

“When we first came, we hadn’t debuted yet.”

“That’s true.”

“Maybe because I remember that, my mind’s blank today. I can’t think of what to say.”

“So that’s why your hair is white?”

“Yes. It got whiter, right?”

I tapped my silver hair, and the audience laughed. Seeing their reaction, Ha Seung-ju’s eyes shone with approval. I continued,

“Anyway, since we’ve wanted to return here, we’ll give our best.”

“It shows. You even brought guitars.”

“That’s right.”

I glanced at the guitar case behind my chair.

“People say we’re ‘too friendly’ and ‘funny when we sing,’ but today we’ll transform our image.”

“Looking forward to it~”

“Please!”

With the audience laughing, Ha Seung-ju smiled and teased,

“Which group in the world announces they’re going to change their image?”

“That’s why we wanted to be the first...”

As our managers gave thumbs-up from below the stage, my brothers nodded. Next to me Jung-hyun nodded like a friendly boulder, making the audience laugh.

After a bit of small talk, Ha Seung-ju asked,

“Could you sing that part again? The ‘wooaaa’ and the chorus of ‘Nine.’”

“Which part?”

“The ‘wooaaa’ and the chorus.”

“Yes.”

“Everyone, please cheer with applause!”

Ri-hyuk rose with a slightly embarrassed look and shook his head. Then he caught his breath and began unaccompanied. His hair glittered under the lights as he inhaled deeply.

“Hmm?”

Jung-hyun made a sound beside me and watched Ri-hyuk. Then, when Ri-hyuk sang the chorus of “Nine,”

Pa-ang pang—

The buttons on his vest, strained by his breath, began popping off one by one. They shot off like submarine hatch screws bursting under pressure.

...

As Ri-hyuk stared in shock at the falling buttons, the entire hall erupted. The MC and audience rolled on the floor in fits of laughter. In the midst of it, we stood dumbfounded. We’d come to blow up the ratings, but the only thing that exploded was the buttons.