In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“Are you saying you’re releasing the bread?”

“Yes.”

“This bread?”

Deputy Manager Hong Seo-young on the PR team across from us nodded. As we sat there dazed, she passed over the contract documents.

“Several companies showed interest. We’re thinking of signing with whoever offers the best terms.”

My brothers and I buried our noses in the paperwork and read through the revenue-sharing and other clauses. Ten minutes later:

“...This isn’t bad.”

“The terms really are generous.”

You could sense their determination to launch this bread properly from the contract. Deputy Manager Hong said,

“There’s nothing bad about their offer. The word-of-mouth success is guaranteed. It’s effectively as if they’re hiring you as ad models.”

Legally, they’d only pay recipe royalties and handle sales, but since everyone already knows it as “NewBlack Bread,” it’s tantamount to using us as spokesmodels. Compared to what it would cost to hire our five as ad models, it was a highly profitable venture for them.

“We think it sounds great, too.”

I said, and my brothers nodded.

“We felt bad that fans who missed the event were disappointed. Selling it like this is wonderful.”

“Right. Even now the fan café is full of people asking what it tastes like.”

Since more non-fans than fans had shown up, we’d been wondering if we should hold an additional event. This proposal arrived at the perfect time.

“We were actually thinking of releasing the recipe to fans.”

Viju offered a warm smile.

“But the buzz has been so huge that if we make it public, people might exploit it.”

We’d already discussed whether or not to share the recipe with Soufflés. The moment it went public, countless bakeries might open up “That Very Bread” or “NewBlack Bread,” selling it at exorbitant prices—and that would tarnish our image.

“I really like this idea.”

With the creator of the Soufflé Bread on board, everything moved swiftly. We’d gotten tips on baking technique from Pâtissier Myeong Se-jin, but Viju had developed the recipe herself, so it was straightforward.

“NewBlack Bread is really coming out....”

Leaving the PR office, we beamed at Viju.

“Wow! Our Viju’s become a bread tycoon.”

“You’ll be rich, hyung! From now on, whenever I fight with Dad, can I lean on you?”

“Let’s stay close, Kim Viju.”

Viju shot me a mock-annoyed glance, then turned her gaze to Ri-hyuk—the only one silent.

“Ri-hyuk. What about you...?”

“Hyung.”

“Yes?”

Ri-hyuk, tapping his calculator app, spoke earnestly.

“I calculated projected profits considering future growth and other factors.”

“....”

“Shall we open a franchise later? This is a viable business.”

“Ri-hyuk. Even you....”

I laughed to see him clutch his fist with such bright eyes. As Viju’s lips curved into a small grin, the maknae said,

“But it’s compelling. The five of us could divide roles perfectly.”

“How so?”

The producer’s son raised a finger and pointed to each of us.

“First, Junghyun-hyung looks dependable, so he should be the CEO.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

He himself looked pleased.

“Right. I’m great at being a puppet.”

“Viju-hyung develops recipes, Ri-hyuk-hyung handles finances and nagging.”

“Nag... what?”

“And I, the team’s cutie, handle sales.”

We froze at the word “cutie,” then commented on the division of roles.

“It’s persuasive.”

“Great idea. That way, we’ll stay together until we’re old and gray....”

“Wait a second.”

I turned to the maknae.

“I’m left out. What do I do?”

“You handle the face, hyung.”

“...The face?”

“If one location’s sales dip, just stand him in front of it. He’s recognizable from variety shows.”

This seemed utterly backward—reverse priorities. I opened my mouth to object, but my brothers nodded as though it made perfect sense. Junghyun held out his palm to me.

“Hyung. Fighting.”

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll end up right in our hands anyway.”

“....”

They were like sticky gummy bears, insisting we open a bakery together. I let out a small laugh and laid down one condition.

“I’ll consider it if you release ‘Kim Deok-soon Bread’ as the next series.”

“‘Kim Deok-soon Bread’....”

“Viju, I’m joking—don’t actually write that down.”

“No, I’m just noting ideas.”

The maknae, large-eyed, hid her phone behind her back. I offered her a gentle smile.

“Viju.”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t serious. I’m really joking.”

“Yes.”

“I mean it.”

“Yes. Got it.”

“....”

I felt uneasy looking at her bright, earnest smile.

Soon after, we heard the scheduled release date for Soufflé Bread: early December. Since it required no special manufacturing, a quick launch was possible. Above all...

[The bread everyone’s talking about]

[Black Bread]

[Charcoal-fire Bread]

Copies appeared at astonishing speed, so the launch date was moved up. Among our customers that day, someone must have been a baker, because there were several near-identical knockoffs. Online reviews, however, were poor.

– They sell it at local bakeries now, but it doesn’t taste the same...ㅠㅠ

– ㅇㅇ it has a unique flavor

– Man, as soon as something trends, people copy it—no shame lol

– Isn’t this going too far? They said it was for fan service...

– Check the consciences of these opportunists

– If it tasted even similarly it’d be fine, but it’s just a cinnamon hint and nothing else

Original bakeries were dubbed the “Grandma’s Next Door,” “Real Grandma’s,” “Great-grandma’s Bakery,” and so on—an unflattering situation. The final straw was a press release from a renowned chain:

– JP Bakery to launch new “Cinnamon Bread”

Its shape and description differed slightly, but it was obviously a copy of Viju’s Soufflé Bread. In the car on our way back to the dorm, Ri-hyuk said,

“JP Bakery is the company Deputy Manager Hong mentioned, right? The one that low-balled us and got rejected.”

“That must be it.”

“They wanted to take nearly all the profits.”

Our managers confirmed it. But before we could process the absurdity, those people had already acted:

– JP Bakery cancels ‘Cinnamon Bread’ launch, “No similarity, but considering the controversy”

Though they gave no detailed reason for the cancellation, the implication was clear: it was because of the Soufflés. We didn’t know how the fans had protested, but for a company famous for ignoring feedback to express “regret” was astonishing. We clasped our cheeks and marveled.

“Wow....”

This kind of event usually only happens with massive fandoms like TNT or TeenSpirit—yet here it was for us. I felt strangely proud and bewildered. It also drove home just how powerful the Soufflé fandom was. With that gratitude, throughout Soufflé Week I greeted fans on live broadcasts with gentle smiles.

“Everyone, we’ll do our best.”

“Have we done anything wrong so far? If you think so, tell us!”

“For now, we just love you.”

Fans laughed in the comments at our sudden shift in tone. We shared behind-the-scenes bread launch stories and watched our live-viewer counts soar as the event continued. This year’s Soufflé Week included mostly new events but retained one fan favorite:

“Yes, everyone. The guy who knows nothing about games—Game-Noob, I, Sun Woo-ju, am here.”

“Game-Noob! Game-Noob!”

Echoing my brothers’ applause, the comment feed chanted “Game-Noob.” In the company lounge’s gaming setup—with gaming mice Ji-ho bought himself—I smiled brightly at the camera.

“Last year, I played StarCraft with one Soufflé fan. Today, we’re doing that same content.”

“To the top four Soufflé finalists across the nation: congrats! The champion may come challenge Uju-hyung.”

Ri-hyuk grumbled:

“I still don’t get what kind of content this is....”

“Junghyun-hyung, let’s go!”

“Use this time to debate! Nyaaagh!”

Meanwhile, we watched the semifinal matches with amazement.

“You’re all incredible pros.”

“It feels like climbing a mountain to take a sip of water watching this.”

Their jokes made me smile sheepishly.

“Okay! At this very moment, we have a winner.”

“There they are again—our killer Soufflé!”

It was the same Soufflé who beat me at StarCraft last year. Unsurprisingly... I lost again. Not because I’m bad—it’s because...

“Eek.”

Every time I moved the mouse flamboyantly, the maknae in the background pounded his chest and sighed. And so I lost three matches in a row. Each defeat was met with me taking a deep breath and running a hand through my hair, prompting laughter from my brothers and the Soufflés. Even the staff teased me, and I hammered out a chat message:

DS_Love: Can you sing?

Killer_Soufflé: Gamers compete in games, oppa.

Killer_Soufflé: Go learn more.

“....”

Moments later, a notice appeared that the opponent had left the room, and my brothers burst into laughter.

After reading fan stories and singing requests through the last day of Soufflé Week, at long last it was December 2. We arrived at the World Arena in Hong Kong.

“It’s bigger than I thought.”

“It feels more immense than on TV.”

During the rehearsal, as staff bustled setting up equipment, we warmed up and surveyed the stage. We tapped our shoe tips on the floor to check the bounce, tested our vocal cords with “Aahh—,” and so on.

“All right, NewBlack. Let’s begin rehearsal.”

At the director’s cue, we ran through “Flower in the Wind” and “Nine.” Each time a manager or staff member handed us water or wiped our sweat, we discussed stage tweaks.

“Right before the final dance break, let’s tighten our formation a bit.”

“Yeah—less risk of slipping.”

“When we do the lift, let’s adjust the pose slightly.”

In the earnest atmosphere, we brainstormed every way to improve the show. The tension was higher than usual. Though the audience size matched the Mango Chart Awards we’d attended, it was our first time here, which felt novel.

“Even the staff seem uneasy.”

“I know.”

I agreed with the maknae. The K-Net Music Awards—KMA—was the first award show we’d attended since debuting. Officially, K-Net and our company—Lemon Ent.—hadn’t been on the best terms. Last year our song “Masquerade” missed the eligibility window, so we weren’t even nominees for Rookie of the Year.

“Let’s do well here, too.”

My brothers nodded. Every stage matters, but KMA is especially high-profile among idol awards. As first-timers and as closing performers for Part 2, we wanted to shine.

“Hello!”

While stretching onstage between rehearsals, a cameraman approached with a writer holding a script.

“We’re here to shoot behind-the-scenes.”

“Oh, yes!”

We waved brightly.

“Hello, viewers!”

“How do you feel attending the awards today?”

“I’m so nervous.”

I smiled calmly at the camera.

“It’s our first KMA, and we’re closing Part 2, so we’re super tense.”

“Were you nervous?”

“Yes. We get very nervous, actually.”

“...That’s surprising.”

Though we were clearly nervous, neither cameraman nor writer looked convinced.

“But fortunately our condition’s good.”

Junghyun clenched a fist in front of the camera.

“My voice’s warmed up, too.”

Ri-hyuk hummed like a canary.

Then we all huddled and laughed.

“We’ve practiced so much, we’re confident. After our performance, we’ll make sure everyone remembers us.”

“Ah....”

The writer murmured and smiled, “So this is nervousness....”

“By the way, the bread was a hot topic, too.”

“Oh? You know?”

“...No one wouldn’t know.”

His voice held humor.

“I heard you even released bread—it must’ve been amazing.”

“Yes. We didn’t expect it to actually launch, so we were bewildered but happy.”

“I thought it’d be fun to include in Behind-the-Scenes. Could you improvise a song about the bread?”

“Of course.”

I hummed a melody for my brothers, then counted “One-two-three,” and we sang a cappella on the spot:

If we both die

And no one knows

A perfect alibi

The chilling lyrics about bread made the cameraman twitch his lips. We exchanged looks and harmonized:

Soufflé Bread—

Ba-ang—

Soufflé Bread—

The harmony of beautiful Soufflé Bread.

By the end, the writer bent over laughing, and we bent with her, tilting our faces into the camera:

Order now—

Soufflé Bread—

The writer covered her face in sobs of laughter, and the cameraman joined in.

On the red carpet.

“Waaaah!”

Hong Kong’s warm weather felt even hotter with roaring cheers. Camera shutters clicked like a swarm of moths, and I greeted fans everywhere I looked.

“I love you, Kim Junghyun-oppa!”

“Queen Mime! Queen Mime!”

We threw finger hearts to fans calling us, met gazes and smiled as we walked. The cheers were so loud that nearby security flinched. After effortlessly completing the photo wall session:

– “The vibe here is intense—NewBlack’s popularity keeps growing.”

– “I knew it was NewBlack the moment I heard the cheers.”

We chatted lightly with the red‐carpet hosts before the awards. Usual questions: today’s fashion concept, simple Mandarin greetings for local fans, etc. But the mood among staff and MCs felt different—more respectful.

“This is quite the honor.”

When we arrived in the green room, Ri-hyuk said that, and we silently nodded. Perhaps thanks to winning a grand ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) prize at the MCA, our treatment had changed. Previously, people said unofficially, “Those guys are on the rise,” but now it was official. Even the cue sheets reflected it. The green room was spacious, with personal areas for managers and stylists. Yet we couldn’t really use the room.

Knock knock

“Who is it?”

“Senpai here. May we come in, newbies?”

In came senpai groups with odd greetings. An eight-member group stood stiffly, then bowed.

“Hello, juniors! TNT here!”

“...Yes, yes.”

I signaled Ri-hyuk to puff up, and we all bowed ninety degrees.

“Helloooo—”

“Don’t! Don’t! No need to apologize!”

Our thunderous greeting startled them, and they tried to stop us. Laughter rippled through the room as we exchanged salutations. Ji-ho and Seok Ji-hoon chatted happily. Meanwhile, Tae-hyeon, his hair dyed gold, flopped onto the sofa and loosened his tie.

“What about the clocks we gave you?”

“Here.”

“As expected, you’re wearing them well.”

Like a golden cat returning home, he lazed about, then began surveying the room. I asked seeing the others glance around,

“You all looking for the bread?”

“...!”

“If you want bread, just ask in the group chat. Don’t DM everyone, though....”

“No, I was just curious.”

These were the same hyungs and dongsaengs who kept PMing whether they could sample leftover bread. Before anyone could speak further, they all charged at Viju.

“Viju-nim!”

The sight of sixth-generation idols politely receiving bread from our second maknae made me chuckle. Each took a bite and look of bliss spread across their faces.

“This is really good.”

“Amazing. No wonder it’s so hyped. I need to stock up at home.”

“Tastes great even cold.”

“Viju-nim, may we take some more? We have to change outfits now.”

“Of course.”

Viju smiled warmly while filling new bags, and TNT dashed back to their green room clutching bread. As we watched and laughed, we awaited our next visitors.

“It’s almost our turn there, too.”

“They’ll be here within a minute—hyung, I hear ‘fucking’ in my ear.”

Sure enough, heavy footsteps stopped at the door. A polite knock, then in came a fresh set of lovely boys.

“We....”

“We’re here.”

“Wow, how did you know? That’s insane.”

To our surprise, TeenSpirit accepted their Soufflé Bread with courtesy. Their dour faces turned to kindergarten-kid delight as they held the bread.

“How is it?”

Since our fandom overlaps with TeenSpirit’s age group, we wondered if it suited teenage tastes. The members, like sunbeams, closed their eyes while nibbling. Then sweet aroma burst from their lips:

“Wow, fuck....”

They looked blissful, and their utterly genuine expletive drew laughter from everyone present.