In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

‘Trainee Lee Jin-hu’s Diary’

Weather: Spring. Picked up some wind-flowers at the convenience store.

It’s been a while since I wrote in my diary.

NewBlack sunbaenims came down to the practice room!!! They’re ridiculously handsome, seriously.

It was a type of handsomeness I’d never seen in my life.

I felt sad for a moment, realizing my mom and sisters must’ve been lying when they said I was handsome, but seeing the snacks the sunbaenims brought made me happy right away lol.

But I thought it was tteokbokki... and it turned out to be grilled beef...!!!

“Wow....”

The trainee who had been excited for tteokbokki took the envelope.

They’re like a clan of meerkats.

One trainee peeked inside, and the others crowded over.

“Wow. It’s really beef....”

“Wow....”

“Thank you so much!”

One bowed, and the rest bowed quickly.

I smiled and said,

“Shall we sit down first?”

“Oh! Yes!”

One trainee fetched wet wipes to clean the floor, and I gestured him away.

Then, after seating the trainees, I said,

“Okay, let’s set up.”

“Yes.”

I stopped them from standing, opened the locker, and took out what we needed.

We laid out newspaper.

“Oh! So the newspaper was for this.”

“No wonder there was a utensil caddy like at a barbecue place.”

Junghyun pulled out the caddy.

The trainees, impressed that he wasn’t a novice, made us smile proudly.

Once we’d set small plates and tied on aprons, we pointed to the foil-wrapped beef around us in a circle.

“Eat up.”

“....”

They swallowed but didn’t reach for it.

I exchanged glances with my brothers.

‘Why won’t they eat?’

‘Maybe because we’re here?’

‘Should we vanish?’

We wondered if they didn’t want to eat while being watched.

At that moment, a very timid trainee raised his hand tentatively.

He looked like a second-year middle schooler, with a small, thin voice.

“Um....”

“Yes?”

“Is it really okay to eat this?”

“Huh?”

At the unexpected question, we blinked.

The trainee hesitated, then asked,

“Is it some kind of patience test where you fail if you eat the beef? Or the newbie development team will come and scold us....”

“That can’t be.”

“At my old company they did that....”

“Any weird company would do that. What was that company’s name?”

“QT Entertainment.”

Rihyuk gave a dry smile.

That was the agency that acquired the one Rihyuk trained under before. I remembered it had really odd customs.

Viju smiled and said kindly,

“In our company they don’t bully you over food.”

“That’s right.”

When the trainees brightened, Viju beamed,

“Training is really intense, but everything else is super free. It’s great, right?”

“....”

Their faces clouded, like soldiers hearing, “Our unit has no bad traditions, just tough training~.”

To the still-cautious, “Can we eat this?” trainees, we smiled.

“Just eat comfortably. We just wanted to bring snacks for fun.”

“In that case....”

The trainee who seemed their leader smiled brightly.

“I’ll enjoy this meal!”

“Excellent spirit. Everyone, pick up your chopsticks. It’s been a while since you had beef, right?”

“Yes, it’s the first time since the CEO bought it for us on day one...!”

Probably starving, they began eating ravenously.

The smiling trainee said,

“I think it’s my first time having beef as a snack! This is amazing!”

“I’m glad. I chose U.S. beef so it wouldn’t be too much for a snack.”

“Ugh! Cough!”

I tried to reassure them, but they laughed while eating.

“How’s the beef Junghyun grilled? Good?”

“Yes!”

“He’s placed in the top ranks of grilling contests. He’s really good.”

Junghyun smiled proudly and nodded, and the trainees covering their mouths with chopsticks applauded.

Then one trainee said,

“But this pamphlet says all the beef is Korean beef.”

“Oh.”

We’d been found out that it was premium Korean beef.

Just as the trainees’ eyes lit up with gratitude, I said with a grin,

“How about that? That was so cool, right? You thought it was American but it really was Korean premium beef.”

“....”

Their grateful looks froze.

Meanwhile they whispered,

“These kids are all so handsome.”

“Yeah. Really handsome.”

Jiho chimed in.

They still had chubby cheeks making them cute, but all six had very sharp features.

They introduced themselves in turn.

“Um.”

“Yes, sunbaenim!”

“What’s your name?”

“Cough! Cough!”

They coughed, and Rihyuk clicked his tongue.

“I know you want to get friendly with youngsters, but please let them eat when they’re eating, mister.”

“I just want to get friendly.”

“I told you to stop. Our presence here is a burden to them.”

“But....”

The other four shook their heads.

They knew their presence would make the trainees uncomfortable, but they wanted to observe the newbies.

Junghyun said,

“Well, they might have questions....”

“That’s right. If you need anything, let us know.”

“Tips for tricking the scale and small company-life hacks too.”

“Before your first monthly evaluation you might get stuck. We can show you basic choreography routines....”

As we lingered, Rihyuk shook his head.

The trainee leader, eating a strip of sirloin, declared,

“That’s right. We’re glad you’re here.”

“Thank you, tteokbokki friend. Your name is...?”

“I’m Lee Jin-hu!”

He said he’s in third year middle school—the oldest here.

The timid trainee raised his hand and said,

“I’m Kim Bok....”

“So cute.”

We cooed at the name ‘Bok’.

“...sooksoo.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Kim Bok-soo.”

“Oh.”

We applauded and said,

“That’s a name that deserves good treatment.”

“Pfft, cough!”

They coughed again for some reason, and the others laughed.

While Junghyun poured water into paper cups, the introductions continued.

“I’m Kang Yun-soo. I’m sixteen.”

“Oh, Yun-soo~!”

Jiho laughed and offered a high-five. The chubby-cheeked Yun-soo clapped in surprise.

“Nice to meet you. I played Yun-soo in that cameo.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Though I died in episode one.”

The trainees exchanged confused looks at Jiho’s goofy smile.

“By the way, you’re all middle schoolers.”

“Oh. Originally there were seven, up to second-year high schoolers, but....”

Jin-hu, with clear eyes, said,

“The high-schooler was kicked out for spoiling the atmosphere....”

“Oh.”

He didn’t finish, but we got it: the second-year high school trainee tried to boss the little ones around and got cut. It happens. Companies value group harmony over skill—problematic trainees get dropped.

“Ah, all middle schoolers, huh.”

As Junghyun said this and glanced around, we nodded. It was clear what the company’s plan was: debut a new boy group in 2019–2020, starting with a blank slate rather than trainees with strong agency ties. Younger trainees mean the company can manage their school and personal lives more.

At that thought, someone’s voice echoed:

“Ah, shit...!”

I remembered the handsome boys next door cursing at gum stuck to their soles. From MOP Entertainment, trainees since childhood, average debut age 15.4.

“...”

I smiled warmly. Maybe character training doesn’t take with them...

Jin-hu said,

“But at the end of the third round, there were many high-schoolers and college students.”

“Huh?”

“Rounds one to three led to the final one-on-one interview with Director Jo in round four.”

“I see.”

“After that, only seven—no, six—remained.”

They were Director Jo’s picks. Known for his keen insight, he’d carefully selected these gems. We wanted to see their skills but held back to avoid intimidating them.

“Then, um... about composing here...”

“No. That’s not it.”

The maknae raised his hand and stopped me.

‘Trainee Lee Jin-hu’s Diary’

While eating, they asked us lots of questions.

Sunbaenims are amazing.

They somehow communicate just through looks. A glance and they understand... how do they understand??

And sunbaenim Wooju has an unbelievable memory.

He remembered Yun-soo’s face from audition day and told us, and after the sunbaenims left, Yun-soo was so smug I wanted to punch him.

Anyway, today felt like being with people from another world.

Those TV people were alive and breathing right in front of me—amazing.

They even invited me to this year’s concert... and we even exchanged contacts..!

I kept my expression cool, but inside everyone was like ‘hell yeah!!’

I called my mom to brag, “NewBlack is in my contacts!!!” and she said it’s the greatest achievement of my life.

After swapping numbers, I remember the final words they said.

After the snacks.

The trainees finished cleaning up and stood to see NewBlack off.

Viju asked, concerned,

“Are you full?”

“Yes!”

“It was just a snack. I hope you’re not too stuffed...”

Like a grandmother on a holiday.

Even though they were so full they couldn’t eat dinner, NewBlack members sighed pityingly. They promised to bring real barbecue next time.

“How much do they normally eat...?”

As that question drifted, our leader addressed the trainees like a principal giving a speech.

“I have one thing to say.”

The trainees focused intently.

It felt like some sage advice was coming.

I pointed to a spot on the wall where a clock used to hang.

“Why isn’t there a clock in this practice room?”

“....”

It sounded profound.

‘What could it be?’

Trainee Lee Jin-hu thought hard. The reason no clock hung here. Just as everyone seemed ready to answer, he shot up his hand.

“Me!”

He called out,

“I know! The reason there’s no clock is so you practice so hard you don’t notice the time!”

“Hmm....”

I said,

“That’s a wonderful spirit but... it’s wrong.”

“Huh?”

I scratched the back of my head.

“The real reason we don’t have a clock is... hey, when did we take it down?”

“Probably when Clay visited.”

“Right. Anyway, it’s gone ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ because we took it down ourselves.”

An awkward moment passed, and our leader smiled kindly at the trainees.

“I brought that up so you’ll know to tell the company right away if you need anything. Practice hard, but until your debut, use the company’s resources fully. They’re all good people.”

The trainees nodded.

With that advice, NewBlack members gathered their coats and left.

“See you next time!”

“Goodbye!”

As they walked toward the elevator instead of the stairs, the trainees burst out,

“Wow!”

“Awesome!”

“That’s crazy!”

Yun-soo, who’d shaken hands with them, held up his wrist as if to say, “Handshake! Handshake!” and they all cheered and waved like worshippers.

In the midst of that excitement, trainee Jin-hu found a quiet rival.

“Bok-soon? What’s up?”

“Well, I noticed something odd...”

Bok-soon hesitated and said,

“Why did they take down the clock for visitors?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s like in department stores—to make you lose track of time.”

“...huh?”

“...huh?”

The two trainees suddenly realized something was off, their faces blanching.

Like Hansel and Gretel, delighted by a gingerbread house only to find it belongs to a witch.

After meeting the trainees,

I handed my brothers four USB sticks.

“Here’s your mission.”

I told them the same thing I said to the two composers.

“I’m trying to fix this song. Please listen and give advice.”

“Sure, if we have time.”

“Rihyuk, give the USB back. You don’t have to.”

“Ah! Please don’t make me have it! No, I mean—”

We laughed at Rihyuk’s flustered correction.

Jiho peered at a USB and asked,

“Just feedback?”

“That’s fine, but since you all know basic composing now, any tweaks would be great.”

“I’ll definitely tweak it, hyung!”

We laughed at Viju’s enthusiasm.

Then I said,

“Really, no pressure. Director and PD said I need to solve it myself.”

Honestly, I didn’t expect much—they’re busy with vocals and dance practice.

I waved to my brothers as they pocketed the USBs.

“See you tonight.”

“Yay!”

They dispersed to practice their choreography and vocals.

I sighed and sat at the studio table, pulling from my pocket the USB from Ha Seungjoo.

He said it’s extracted from a videotape of my parents.

I held it in my hand—its warmth comforting—then carefully plugged it into my laptop.

Ding.

My heart fluttered with unexplained tension and excitement, like before a concert.

There was only one file: titled 1997_04_11.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and clicked it.

My heartbeat echoed in my ears. As if readying for a performance.

The loading felt eternal, then the screen lit.

“....”

A bright room. A studio-like space where my dad sat working on music, adjusting notes with his fingers behind glasses.

A camera—probably Ha Seungjoo’s—walked toward him.

The camera zoomed on his notebook, showing lines reading ‘Myeong-eun♡’. Dad smiled sheepishly as Ha Seungjoo laughed.

The camera panned to Mom, seated far away cradling a four-year-old child.

Mom laughed and waved at the camcorder, then held up the little one’s hand and waved.

As people living in 1997 laughed, I waved too. Hello, Mom.

Dad’s face I’ve seen on MyTube, but Mom’s mostly in photos. It felt odd yet wonderful to see her moving image.

As the camera focused on them, Dad whispered on the soundtrack:

His whisper continued:

Then Dad got up and ran over.

The kid’s firm refusal broke Dad’s face into mock despair, and Mom and Seungjoo laughed.

Mom’s laughing face was the last frame before the video cut off. I saw Ha Seungjoo’s panic—battery must’ve died.

I stared at the paused screen, lost in thought. I pride myself on memory but why can’t I remember this? Still, being able to see Mom and Dad in a home video was a great joy.

I wanted to see them in person and tell them I’m doing fine, tell them about my group. So much I wanted to say, but it wasn’t possible. I waved softly to the frozen images.

“Bye~”

I miss you both. And I’m doing well.

I shook my head to brush away tears, then began typing a message.

I thanked Ha Seungjoo and sent the video file to Grandma. She’d love it too.

Feeling that gentle warmth, I turned back to my composition screen, smiled quietly, and clicked my mouse.