In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Kim Hyung-seop glanced around anxiously.

‘This is an entertainment agency...’

In such a strange space, he felt restless and tense.

His eyes landed on a sign reading “Producing Team.”

“Would you like a cup of instant coffee?” someone asked.

“Oh, yes.”

A group of compositors with gentle demeanors made him coffee and handed it over.

‘...They’re all so kind.’

He’d overheard that A&R and producing in this industry involved a huge workload, but Lemon Entertainment people looked warm and friendly. Above all, they treated him like a very honored guest.

“You must have been surprised watching Mr. Producer yesterday.”

“Ah, yes...”

The whole affair began just yesterday. As usual, he’d been eating ramen and watching the show when suddenly the remix of “Nine” he’d made started playing.

“Uh... uh...”

He’d been so startled he dropped his chopsticks into the pot. Even as broth splashed onto his clothes, he saw Bi-ju dancing to the remix so vividly.

Then NewBlack’s leader said,

“You made this so well? Wow.”

His face had flushed at the compliment, then the leader added earnestly,

“I’m not kidding—if the producer of this remix sees this, please get in touch.”

His heart had pounded wildly at that sincere request. When he checked the video’s comments, there were countless messages like “This is crazy,” “Mainstream TV debut lol,” and mostly “Contact him quickly! This is your chance!” It felt overwhelming at first, but his thought was simple:

‘First, let me reach out.’

That led to this meeting at an agency in Sinsa-dong.

‘This isn’t quite what I imagined...’

As a company, he’d expected formal attire—but the producing team’s department was free-spirited. Beards were common; some wore earrings, others sported hip-hop rings. PD Na Sang-yun in front of him wore a hoodie with a skull print.

“Mr. Kim Hyung-seop?”

“Yes.”

“May I call you Hyung-seop?”

“Yes, of course.”

With a warm smile, PD Na said, “This isn’t a job interview—no need to be nervous. You’re our invited guest.”

“Make yourself at home—feel free.” The composers clustered behind him chuckled.

“We all saw your remix on MiTube. You did an amazing job.”

“Thank you...”

“I saw a top comment saying, ‘After hearing this, the original sounds boring.’ We all agreed.”

Blushing, Hyung-seop smiled shyly. Other staff praised him to ease his nerves, then asked about his process.

“How did you come up with the idea?”

“Well, um...”

He fumbled through his explanation. Lacking talent for verbal descriptions, he worried they wouldn’t understand—but these veteran composers immediately got it.

“You decided to break it down before the chorus?”

“Uh, yes... how did you...?”

“You can hear it. And your idea is really clever.”

Though they praised his idea, he was struck by their mastery. He knew a few composer seniors, but he’d never seen talent this high around him.

“You’re amazing—spotting things we didn’t even mention...”

“Right? We do okay—but it helps that we happen to have a demon-king living nearby...”

He guessed whom they meant.

“You mean NewBlack’s Woo-ju, right?”

“Yes.”

They sighed deeply.

“If you meet him, you’ll see. He’s like... what should I say? Something dropped from the sky. Truly.”

“Let’s talk about Woo-ju later, team leader. He’ll run off.”

As others shook their heads, Hyung-seop hesitated.

‘Run off? What do you mean run off?’

Before he could ask, PD Na swiftly changed the subject.

“Where did you study composition?”

“I was in the band club in middle and high school, played guitar and learned some. I had friends composing around me.”

“Are you doing anything now?”

“After the military, I’ve been doing odd jobs and part-time work since last year.”

“I see...”

Actually, he’d failed college entrance three times before serving in the military. After hearing his story, PD Na asked,

“Do you have any career plans?”

“Career plans?”

“Something you want to do in the future.”

“I...I haven’t thought much about it, but I’d like to consider something in music.”

As the conversation reached that point, Hyung-seop’s heart began to race. He felt they were nearing the moment he’d been hoping for.

“Hmm.”

Rubbing his chin, PD Na asked,

“Hyung-seop.”

“Yes?”

His heart thumped pinkly.

“Would you like to learn music here at our company?”

“Um....”

“It’s a chance to work and learn music.”

On the surface, he looked contemplative, but in his ears sounded heavenly fanfare. At twenty-four, a golden rope was drifting down into his life...!

And...

‘Is this real? Is this really happening?’

He trembled with joy, unaware of the ecstatic looks the composers around him shared—as if they’d just captured a legendary Pokémon.

Outside the Producing Team office, PD Na Sang-yun emerged with a solemn expression and approached them in the hallway. Ji-ho whispered,

“Did you catch him?”

“Caught him alive.”

He and his younger brothers did a quiet high-five. After a brief introduction, he asked PD Na,

“What do you think?”

“Not formally trained, but he’s got innate sense—especially for remixes and arrangements.”

“Oh...”

“He could start immediately without any problem.”

“Ohhh...”

His face brightened, and PD Na smiled.

“That good?”

“I’ve really needed someone like this lately.”

“That makes sense.”

Hearing “Nine” remix, he’d thought he had to invite this guy. He was the same age, and in the office Hyung-seop’s talent for emphasizing a song’s mood really stood out. Exciting songs got more exciting; calm songs stayed calm. PD Na was confident in making songs but felt weaker in that area—always wanting someone with that talent around.

“I think we’ll offer you a contract today. Start as temporary staff, and you can decide later.”

“That sounds good.”

He checked the most important detail for hiring.

“How about the internet? No weird posts?”

“Besides a few MiTube uploads under his account, it’s spotless. No internet footprint otherwise.”

“That’s great.”

Satisfied that there’d be no issues, he asked,

“Shall we go in and greet them?”

“Sure.”

They entered the Producing Team office together.

“Hello!”

“Hic”

The tanned young man standing there hiccupped in surprise. Tall, athletic—reminiscent of a PE student. Hyung-seop jumped up, flustered.

“Ah, hi... hic hello—hic!”

“Hello, composer.”

“I’m not a composer—hic uh, I’m...”

He nodded with a smile.

“Junghyun.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“Stop him.”

“Understood.”

Like a kid at the dentist, the hiccupping Hyung-seop watched warily as they smiled encouragingly. Three seconds later:

“...Whoa.”

His hiccups stopped instantly. They returned his surprised expression with a warm smile. Proud they’d made a good first impression.

“Wow, an actual celebrity...”

“Hello.”

“It’s so amazing—I saw you on TV yesterday...”

He stammered, then asked,

“Could we take a photo later?”

“Of course.”

“I knew my parents wouldn’t believe me if I said I got a job here. So...”

“We’ll see each other often anyway.”

That seemed to mean a lot to him. When Hyung-seop praised the remix and pointed out what he’d loved, his eyes sparkled with joy.

“Thanks to you, dancing felt more exciting than usual. You made the remix so fun.”

“Ah...”

“I’m thrilled we’re working together.”

Moved by their sincere words, he fiddled with the paper cup in his hand. The other younger brothers greeted him with smiles, and they welcomed Kim Hyung-seop as temporary staff in the Producing Team.

“Feels weird starting with work talk at our first meeting...”

“Oh, no! It’s fine! I really want to work.”

“Our concert’s coming soon. We’d love your help on a few MR tracks.”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Just casual advice, no pressure.”

They wanted to make the concert arrangements more exciting—enough to make Suffle viewers feel like “This is where I’ll collapse.” They asked for suggestions to enhance each song’s mood without deviating from the originals.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“No, not yet...”

“There’s a beef restaurant nearby. Go with the team for lunch.”

“Beef?”

Hyung-seop stared blankly at the promise ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ of beef instead of pork. Pulling out a card, the speaker turned to PD Na with a mischievous grin.

“Who am I, PD-nim?”

“You’re the Supreme Dignity of Lemon Entertainment, Sun Woo-ju.”

“No need to go that far...”

Staff chuckled at his embarrassment. Watching PD Na accept the card as if receiving a royal gift made them laugh. Their new colleague beamed in the cheerful atmosphere.

“Enjoy your meal.”

“Come on, Hyung-seop—fill up on beef today!”

Waving to the team heading out excitedly for an early lunch, they returned to the TF Team office to hear from Manager Hong Seo-young about Mr. Producer’s response.

“Thanks for your hard work, Manager.”

“You’re here?”

“Yes. Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

Hong offered them red ginseng with a smile.

“I’m too excited to sleep.”

“Ohh...”

“So much happened last night—where do you want to start? Good news or more good news?”

“Good news!”

They all laughed in agreement.

The best news was the audience’s favorable reactions. Popular shows usually yield news articles with topics reporters think will get clicks, but the headlines were glowing:

–“Mr. Producer nails it with NewBlack mentors, scoring big in ratings and buzz”

–“‘TV chases humans’: viewers roar at NewBlack Bi-ju’s TV chase”

–“‘No mentor like this before’: why the NewBlack project excites fans”

Manager Hong showed them articles with thousands of comments each.

“Whoa...”

Even major scandals barely get that many comments. Scrolling through the top posts revealed only positive remarks:

–“lololol that was hilarious”

–“Finally a legendary special—laughed all day”

–“The cast had perfect chemistry, laughed so hard I drooled”

–“Whoever’s in charge at TV ppl must be getting praised nonstop”

–“Dad, the TV’s moving??”

–“I didn’t expect laughs like this... so happy for a fun special”

–“I used to watch idols with a blank face, but I laughed every time”

–“NewBlack forever”

–“Was it jajangmyeon or something? Anyway I want to do that too haha”

Even the top comments racked up huge upvotes. Ri-hyuk marveled,

“They say it’s a national variety show, but I didn’t know the reach—this is incredible.”

“That, and you guys were so funny...”

“We admit it. We were hilarious, right?”

“It’s cuz it was insanely funny. Especially Bi-ju nailed it.”

Manager Hong smiled at Bi-ju flashing a peace sign.

“Every community has at least one Bi-ju gif among its top posts.”

Though the show was fun overall, the finale clearly packed the biggest punch.

“That really exploded and drove the buzz.”

“Definitely.”

“Imagine TV coming alive and rebelling against humans—who wouldn’t be curious?”

Thanks to the internet’s “What is that?” → “You can’t be the only one who missed this, check it out” → “What is that?” loop. They even saw a meme of a Bi-ju doll on a bicycle, captioned “You didn’t value your TV...”

“I heard ratings didn’t differ much from usual, but I think they’ll shoot up next week.”

“PD must be thrilled.”

“And they’ve been posting behind-the-scenes on MiTube—they look so excited.”

Not only the production team: the cast, having prepared for so long, were visibly thrilled. Even now, Mr. Producer members were in their group chat, spamming NewBlack emojis.

“And here’s something important...”

Manager Hong said, “People who only knew you vaguely have embraced your new image.”

“New image?”

“Producing and composing.”

“Ah...”

“You’ve shown vocal skills on hit song panels, but honestly the general public hadn’t focused on that before.”

He told them proudly, “If we keep highlighting the producing side, it’ll work positively in any direction.”

“Yes. We love that too.”

Attention for something tied to their craft, not just laughs, was ideal. And since it was only episode 1, they’d show even more over two months. The result was so good that it was hard to understand why they hesitated to appear.

“You did great. Just appearing on the show gave you promo value worth billions in album ads.”

Mentioning promotion, Manager Hong suddenly recalled something.

“Oh—and do you want that moving TV?”

“No.”

“The manufacturer called, asked me to thank Bi-ju for us.”

Ji-ho patted his back, “Wow,” and Bi-ju beamed.

“They said if you want, they’ll send you a few units.”

“I’ll politely decline.”

He really didn’t want one.

“But since they asked me to pass along thanks, does that mean sales will go up?”

“No, I think they’re just satisfied with the impactful branding.”

He explained that only twenty had sold nationwide so far—so he understood. He was more curious who’d bought so many moving TVs and why they were invented at all.

“All right, let’s wrap up.”

After coaching on interview do’s and don’ts regarding Mr. Producer and social media, Manager Hong asked,

“Anything we should know about the TBC show with Teen Spirit?”

“No content issues, but one little snag...”

“What? What is it, Woo-ju?”

Manager Hong asked, surprised. Woo-ju answered,

“They at least put on BB cream, but I went on with no makeup.”

“Oh...”

“...”

“You said you’re busy? Go practice.”

Manager Hong waved him off playfully, and his brothers laughed.

Their segment on TBC’s “Please Take Care of My Manager” didn’t need any worry. Though he’d been nervous appearing bare-faced under a hood,

“Oh. It’s better than I thought, right?”

“...”

“For no makeup, you look great.”

Subtitles read “[Why are they there...?]” as the five appeared—it looked much better than he’d feared. In fact,

“Watch yourself, Sun Woo-ju...”

“You’re safe, right? How does he do that?”

“Why am I taller than Kim Bi-ju so my face’s uncovered?”

“Kim Junghyun, can you be quiet?”

His brothers, looking like grimy coal lumps, downed sparkling water like hard liquor, reminding themselves of their BB cream fiasco. He just smiled wickedly at them.

Anyway, the polite balloon-passing scenes with Teen Spirit caused a small stir—nothing major, but the Teen Spirit members’ Y-App comments stood out:

–“Yes, NewBlack lives upstairs. On day one we shared the Wi-Fi...”

–“We were proud they used our balloons on Mr. Producer. They said you’ll see on broadcast.”

–“We’re not super close yet, just getting to know each other... we want to be closer.”

Since words like “f––king” were blocked, they couldn’t find a perfect expression for their relationship. So when Yeon-hu said,

–“Teen Spirit’s Yeon-hu mentions NewBlack on live: ‘We’re in the getting-to-know-stage... watch us’”

That headline sounded like a dating rumor, and everyone laughed. They joked when they’d see a breakup article; Yeon-hu got dissed hilariously. They didn’t know “final academic credentials” jokes had so many variations.

“Never heard of a middle-school overseas diploma.”

“Expressions from daily life have value, not just books—I feel like a linguistic alchemist.”

“Maybe a black-magic alchemist?”

That unexpected hiccup with Teen Spirit was brief. Then:

“Hello!”

It was the day A-TEN members were coming by Lemon Entertainment’s studio for a mid-choreography check. A surprise guest arrived before the filming started—Han Tae-hyeon. He hadn’t caught them off guard; they’d teased “D-3,” “D-2” for three days.

“Hello, NewBlack!”

“Waaaah!”

“I figured you’re tired prepping for the concert, so I, Han Tae-hyeon, brought gifts~!”

“Waaaah!”

Amid his brothers’ cheers, Woo-ju squinted at the person spreading his arms wide with bundles of presents.

“Why did you buy so much? Are you a peddler?”

“A peddler? If you don’t accept, I’ll take it all back.”

“You sure you can refund it?”

Who asked me every time back then when you couldn’t refund it? He licked his lips.

“Ah, you’re trying to bail before the show.”

“Glad you came.”

“Didn’t I do well?”

“It’s great to see you after so long.”

He tapped his arm with a smile, and the mint-haired idol cracked a grin. Han Tae-hyeon, the main dancer of 7-year-veteran boy group TNT, was today’s surprise guest on Mr. Producer.