In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Flutter—

Ji-ho’s test paper fluttered in the breeze.

“Ta-da!”

Against the backdrop of the Hanok Village, dressed in hanbok, he looked like the young master returning from the academy. As we let our eyes follow the paper he held out, they went wide.

“No way...!”

We couldn’t help it. Viju accepted the paper and swallowed dryly.

“You scored eighty-nine?”

“What? How is that possible? I’ve never seen Wang Ji-ho bring home anything over seventy.”

“He’s never scored higher than seventy-five, even on easy tests.”

As the brothers murmured among themselves and the nearby fans began laughing for some mysterious reason, Ji-ho said, “Huh?”

“Eighty-nine?”

“Um...”

“You’re holding it upside-down.”

“Oh...!”

We’d been so stunned by the number eighty-nine that we hadn’t even noticed the paper was inverted. The moment we saw “89,” it felt like a dramatic close-up in a TV drama—just as shocking as hearing our first-week sales hit 225,000.

“Wait a sec.”

I took the paper from Viju and flipped it the right way.

“....”

Staring dumbfounded at the confident “68” underlined in red, we blinked.

“Sixty-eight?”

Ri-hyuk flared his eyes like, “Is this even human?” If they’d been any closer, we could’ve seen him biting back curses. His ears, red as an alarm, burned under the hanbok hood.

“But seriously...”

At Ri-hyuk’s three-syllable growl that only Koreans make when furious, Ji-ho winced. Ri-hyuk’s eyes trembled.

“I stayed up all night for you...! Pulled an all-nighter to make that study guide... and you...”

“Hey, you said you made this one in an hour, right?”

“Oh... right. I stayed up all night for another one. This I actually spent an hour on.”

As Ri-hyuk stammered, we exchanged warm smiles.

“He stayed up all night.”

“So that’s why the guide was so good.”

When we narrowed our eyes at the giggling maknae, he cleared his throat:

“Look, hyungs, don’t give me that pitying look. There’s a story here.”

“What story?”

“I mean, I’m sixty-eight points, but I’m not really sixty-eight.”

He looked as pleased as a whale shark—something big but not quite a whale. With an innocent grin, he continued:

“So at first I got sixty-eight and cried my eyes out.”

“You didn’t.”

At Manager Won-seok’s interjection, we all nodded. Ji-ho cleared his throat and went on:

“Anyway, I was so down thinking you’d all tease me for sixty-eight...”

“I was calling my friends: ‘Guess what, I got sixty-eight again!’”

“...Then I Googled the test difficulty.”

“Searched ‘Korean History NewBlack Ji-ho real-life review.’”

Each time the maknae lied, the manager corrected him, making us laugh. We were curious now:

“So then what happened?”

“I went to the test forum, and question twenty-one was under dispute—multiple answers accepted. Even the Korean-history teachers said it’s definitely multiple-choice.”

“......”

“By chance, the question I’d marked wrong was that one!”

While we looked on with a mix of pity and fascination, he slapped down the test sheet showing question twenty-one. The red slash he’d confidently drawn was now a triangle mark.

“It’s worth three points!”

“......”

“They recognized the multiple answer, so now I’m seventy-one points!”

Clutching the paper like winning a royal exam, hanbok-clad Ji-ho pumped his fist.

“......”

Pride personified. His cheeks glowed with fresh blush, irresistibly cute yet hopelessly pathetic.

“What’s with you? This is something to celebrate—Level One!”

“Yeah, it’s Level One, but...”

“Aww~”

He waved his hand shyly, smiling.

“Life’s really about luck.”

“Study. Study...”

Though he technically got Level One, the victory felt hollow. Jung-hyun laughed, then tilted his head, “Hmm?” repeating his puzzled gaze. Viju, hands still clenched, wondered “Should we even celebrate this...?”

“Still, you did well. Good job on the test,” I said, patting his shoulder. Ji-ho grinned sheepishly. It was a good thing—better than consoling him in the sixties. The others also patted his back.

“Puhaha!”

As Ji-ho happily munched the snack Viju handed him, our gaze settled on the one unusually quiet among us. Ri-hyuk examined question twenty-one’s multiple answer ruling, his hand... trembling?

“...Ri-hyuk. You okay?”

He sat like a scholar delivering a harsh petition. After a deep breath, he loosened his topknot.

“No...”

With eyes gleaming, Ji-ho recoiled. Ri-hyuk said:

“That question you missed—another three-pointer—was on the Great Famine.”

“That’s the one you told me about recently?”

“Yes. I explained it in detail for ten minutes at the stew place. Look—you got it wrong.”

“Oh. If I’d paid attention, you’d have seventy-one.”

Jung-hyun’s comment sent Ji-ho’s gaze wavering. Then, with a mix of petulance and villainous charm:

“Actually...”

The maknae grinned. “I was too lazy to listen.”

“Hey!”

“Argh! History demon!”

“You stay right there!”

Like a fleeing academy youth chased by his master, Ri-hyuk tore after him in mock fury.

The small-theater tour across North Jeolla wound down successfully. The only regret: we never got to visit Madam Kim Deok-soon nearby.

“I miss Grandma...”

“We miss Grandma too!”

On our phones, her smiling, wrinkled face beamed.

“You jokers...”

Her hearty profanity warmed our hearts.

“You look at me like I’m going to croak any minute. I’m not terminally ill—I see you every day on the phone.”

“I miss you, Grandma.”

“Me too!”

“I swear, you’re everywhere I turn—on TV one minute, another channel the next, no off-switch.”

We exchanged astonished grins.

“Oh, our grandma knows how to make a stingy exit!”

“Humph.”

She smiled and asked, “Well? Doesn’t that make me look younger?”

“Yes! By fifty years!”

“Of course, Viju. You give the sweetest compliments of us all.”

I shoved my face into the camera view. “How about me?”

“Oh, hush.”

Her single word, so full of meaning, sent us into roaring laughter. As we moved to the next region, she teased:

“Tiring running nationwide?”

“It is!”

“Very!”

“...Indeed.”

“Puhaha!”

“You’re driving me mad, witches...”

Her line stumbled over itself—she’d planned a dramatic, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ “Even if you all say you’re not tired, you must be,” but ended up chuckling.

“Anyway, stay sharp, give it your all!”

“I miss you, Grandma.”

“So do I.”

“When we finish the Japan tour next month, I’ll head straight to Gunsan. We’ll have fun then.”

“Do that. Take care of yourself.”

“Now that it’s winter, a fur coat?”

Madam Kim flashed a demure “OK” finger-heart. We burst out laughing and hung up. A sign for Gwangju passed by as we turned our thoughts to our next stop.

...Too bad we couldn’t visit her in Gunsan. I’d wanted to shout “Grandma!” as we toured.

Headlines celebrated our every move, thanks to the album’s success and the My Hometown Now buzz:

“First ‘national idol’ since Generation One? NewBlack’s bold new path”

“January boy-group brand survey: NewBlack dethrones TNT and TeenSpirit”

“From regional news to small-theater tour: NewBlack’s five members, five charms conquer the nation”

When we toured the Gyeonggi region, it wasn’t like this. After our show aired, town mayors and county chiefs posed for photos with us. Wherever we tasted local specialties or visited hidden gems, officials welcomed us like heroes. It must be the popularity of our MiTube travel content. Every time we posted a review of a Daejeon bakery or Cheonan walnut cookies, or uncovered a secret spot, tourism boards rejoiced.

“Saved!”

...some had even said that. Then we heard: spots we highlighted on MiTube suddenly transformed into hot destinations for young travelers. Our content seemed to inspire free-spirited college winter trips. Ji-ho offered his theory:

“Honestly, it’s ‘cause Jung-hyun eats it so happily.”

“True.”

“Someone commented: when he breathes, even the air looks delicious.”

“Puhaha!”

Jung-hyun’s joyful reaction whenever we discovered hidden eateries certainly helped. Just then Ji-ho slapped the window glass:

“Wow! We just passed a stone stele!”

“It’s a utility pole.”

“Oh. A utility pole.”

From mukbang to marveling at anything, the maknae’s ‘Wow!’ reactions—and ours—were part of the charm. After weeks in the practice room, every sight outside felt wonderful.

Still, because our eyes had grown too discerning, we never made it to Gunsan.

“But our lives are the best.”

“Right. We see Sup-fle, eat amazing food.”

“I wish every music show tour was like this.”

This schedule felt easier than music shows—no midnight calls, no zombie mornings. Ri-hyuk said:

“Do you know why this is easy?”

“’Cause there’s no choreography?”

“...Hey, how did you know?”

“We’re on about our fifth hundred mention of that, Ri-hyuk.”

He peered out the window happily. Without choreography, a nationwide hour-long talk-plus-performance tour was possible. Of course, we did have choreography:

“In Gwangju, after check-in, meet at Viju’s room to map out the dance.”

“Yes!”

From mid-February, we’d hold six or seven shows in Japan across two weeks—so we couldn’t slack on practice. We were also planning the next purple album, mapping out this year’s concerts and variety-show gigs with management, prepping a duty-free shop ad, and discussing whether to make special albums an annual tradition.

“Lots of work.”

“Indeed.”

We shared gentle smiles. Sure, the pressure was real—but life needs pressure, right?

“Life?”

“It’s tough, life...”

“No, I said life.”

At the word, my mind flashed embarrassing “deep-dive” content memories—but I smiled at my brothers and said:

“One step at a time.”

“Let’s nail tomorrow’s show intros first.”

“Oh, right—that’s important.”

Tomorrow we’d open a regional program in Buk-gu, Gwangju—our most important broadcast to date. It was a dream to appear there, and our hearts raced imagining it.

“We’re going on that show...”

“I still can’t believe it.”

Envisioning tomorrow’s recording, we laughed happily.

The next day.

As soon as Sup-fle logged into MiTube, they found a fan-cam of NewBlack recommended to them under “Gwangju Buk-gu”—and clicked.

♪ Ding-dong-daeng—

With the familiar xylophone cue,

“-Welcome!”

The upbeat, familiar BGM started, and Sup-fle nodded along. In an outdoor plaza, cap-wearing fans waved cheer sticks. Having skipped the MC’s intro, they cued up NewBlack’s performance.

“-First up, our invited singer! Not just handsome faces, but energizers for your life! A tight-knit five-piece—guess who? Coming out now—NewBlack!”

“Waaaaah!”

We appeared, performing Donghaeng (同行), a trot originally reimagined with a wintry vibe from our special album. It was lively yet warm.

“-Hello, everyone!”

Our cheerful greeting drew cheers. Trot singer Baek Sang-gyo joined us on stage to belt out his song in our remake.

“Wow, he’s good.”

Watching us expertly coax the crowd, Sup-fle smiled.

“-Aahhh~”

In spots usually sung by off-stage backing vocalists, we layered on “aahhs,” grinning.

“Awesome.”

As we sang with youthful energy, they beamed—until:

“Eek.”

An auto-play video of a unicycle act popped up next, and they frantically closed the window.

Busan.

After touring Chungnam, Jeonbuk, and Jeonnam, NewBlack finally reached Busan for a performance. In Nam-gu’s Busan Cultural Center Grand Theater, Sup-fle from around Busan and Ulsan filled all 1,400 seats.

“This is going to be so fun...”

Their hearts raced like moviegoers anticipating a great show. We felt so happy—our idols were right in our hometown. It felt closer, more shared.

“And I hope there’s prizes.”

It might be greedy, but Sup-fle dreamed of winning merch—remembering fans who snagged fridges or washers. Attendees whispered:

“I’m so nervous.”

“Me too.”

“At 1,400 to five, that’s 300-to-one odds.”

They hoped to win front-row raffle tickets for the first story reading. Crunching with excitement, they waited.

“Hey, who’s that?”

“Yeah.”

In a back corner, a masked middle-aged man clutched his ticket. Male idols have rare male fans; a middle-aged one was unprecedented. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

“Who is he?”

Before anyone could linger on the odd fellow, the lights dimmed and our entrance music began.

“Waaaaah!”

The roar drowned out all curiosity. Seeing us on stage, the Sup-fle’s glowsticks burned brighter.

Our song began—exactly as on Y-App—intro to finish, and they loved it.

“This album is amazing.”

Every track was top-notch; even intros and outros felt essential—no skips needed. That’s why multiple album songs still rank high on the charts.

“...Sob.”

After Hibernation, a sniffling near the front made heads turn. A middle-aged man dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief—touched by the song.

“-Hello!”

On stage, our smiles flashed.

“-Great to see you, Sup-fle.”

“Waaaaaah!.”

“-Thank you for coming on our small-theater tour ‘Encounter.’”

Woo-ju took the mic:

“-From Seoul to Busan is about 388 kilometers. A long way. We’ve had fans at signings who came from Busan—we only now feel how far that is.” He smiled.

“-Whether you watched us on TV or came here in person, thank you for always finding us. ‘Encounter’ means both sides come together. So you came to us.”

He left the second half unspoken, but we could hear it: “So we came to you.”

“-We’re delighted to meet you, Sup-fle.”

Each member beamed their line.

“-Shall we have fun singing together now?”

“Yes!”

We moved into another special-album track, shifting from calm to festive. Meanwhile:

“-Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

As Sup-fle swallowed hard, panels bearing images of fridges and air-cons rose on stage for the first story raffle.

“-This story stood out—‘Eun-seo’s Dad’ sent it.”

“-Thanks to NewBlack, my life’s so happy these days. Every morning I dread work, but now I’m thrilled even on my commute.”

Sup-fle smiled in solidarity. After the heartfelt note, we asked:

“-Eun-seo’s father—are you here?”

“There he is!”

They turned to look—and the masked man hesitated, trembling.

“-If you’re okay, could we see your face?”

A flicker of indecision passed through him. Then he carefully removed his hat and mask—and at that moment:

“......”

“-Oh...”

NewBlack and Sup-fle alike recoiled at seeing the gentle face beneath the lights.

“-Please spotlight him—our ch—our creator!”

Ji-ho stammered “creator” instead of “CEO,” prompting laughter. When CEO Park Gyu-ho awkwardly took the mic, we watched in stunned silence. A fan timidly covered his mouth, “G–Gyu-ho...!” making everyone laugh.

“-CEO?”

“-Why are you here?”

Park Gyu-ho rubbed his cheek, embarrassed:

“-I... my story was selected...”

As Sup-fle and we exchanged bewildered glances, questions flew:

“Is it a prize?”

“Of course—it’s the prize.”

“The prize.”

With everyone’s minds aligned, Ji-ho—eyes sparkling—took the mic:

“-But, you really hated going to work?”

The unexpected question triggered a roar of laughter from the entire hall.