In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

On the day the single was released,

While thunderous cheers still echoed through the showcase venue, the entire country was buzzing over the release of “Attention.”

“Did you see that, A-TEN? They said the MV dropped today.”

“It did?”

“I hear they’re doing their debut showcase right now.”

Passengers on subways and buses had A-TEN’s MV or audio playing on their phones. Whether flipping through a magazine at a hair salon, dining in a restaurant, or chatting with friends in a café, everyone was hearing news of “Attention.”

And the reactions were strikingly similar.

“This song is seriously good....”

Even when the demo version aired on the variety show, I thought it was amazing.

But the finished version was even better.

It felt so fresh and exciting—no matter what, it was destined to blow up, even without the variety-show boost.

“......I can’t stop playing it.”

People were downloading it outright or adding it to playlists on repeat.

In a certain café,

A group who’d just heard of A-TEN’s debut listened in awe.

Someone pulled up Ujuseon’s styling photos, dotted across the phone screen.

“This kid’s a genius.”

“Between the way he acts and his musical talent, it’s like he has some genius-level quirk—something the average person can’t touch, you know?”

“Not just him—it kind of seems like they’re all geniuses.”

“They’re probably all blood type AB.”

If anyone from NewBlack had overheard that, they’d have spat blood in fury.

At that moment, someone quietly sipping coffee tilted their head and said,

“Is it really that strange? I watched the show and didn’t think it was odd—doesn’t it just seem like a bunch of kids their age?”

“Have you seen this...?”

“What is it?”

“The music video.”

The MV began to play. A-TEN members appeared onscreen, with NewBlack making cameo appearances here and there, and finally Jung-hyun’s statue scene rolled.

“Never mind. I take it back.”

Even the one who hesitated at the claim “Their extraordinary talent makes them abnormal” now completely agreed.

As people across the nation caught wind of A-TEN’s debut,

Industry insiders were scrambling.

“Find every possible angle for an article! Just write ‘A-TEN–NewBlack’ in the headline to grab clicks. If that fails, go with ‘Shocking Commonality: Human!’ or something.”

“Monitor the A-TEN MV views—once it hits one million, post that article immediately. No need to verify fastest time; just slap on ‘record-breaking.’”

“Any leaked photos from the showcase? If not, scrape something and post it!”

Stream after stream of stories went live:

As entertainment reporters tracked “Attention”’s chart trajectory and MV views,

“Can we get A-TEN and NewBlack on our show together...?”

“PD-nim, shouldn’t we call Lemon Ent. right away? Even if it’s another network, we have to «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» try. This is a ratings cheat code.”

“PBS probably won’t let them, but we have to ask.”

Broadcast producers were also intrigued by the mid-career rookies joining forces with top-tier idols. Though PBS ultimately declined outside appearances, the phones at Lemon Ent. buzzed nonstop with interest.

Reflecting that offline popularity, online chatter about “Attention” roared.

“Ugh....”

Even Soufflé, accustomed to massive fandom teasers, were stunned browsing online.

Perhaps because Mister Producer drew a hotter 20–30 demographic,

In every internet community, someone was talking about A-TEN and NewBlack.

Predictably, it was in the Humor section.

Two threads dominated:

One was...

[Can humans and machines become friends..?]

Answer: “They can.”

(During the showcase photo op, Biju posed arm-in-arm with a TV, headline: “Top Star You Used to See Only On TV—Now in a Photo Together?”)

And the meme that went viral with that wholesome photo:

[Find what’s odd in 10 seconds or die]

(GIF of NewBlack’s statue at the opening)

...Found it yet..?

Ta-da! The statue is alive...!

(GIF of Jung-hyun moving inside the statue)

You failed to spot the hidden bronze statue and got ambushed!

If you didn’t find it, you’re dead, right

┕ “Probably friends...”

┕ “Sure in the Serengeti”

While those statue memes flooded humor boards,

Idol-fan communities naturally focused on performance stats:

A-TEN’s debut album—title track and B-sides—filled slots 1 through 6 on the real-time chart. MV views skyrocketed so quickly they were hard to track. This was largely due to Mister Producer’s overseas fandoms pushing play en masse.

Most posts marveled at the chart or praised the song, reflecting that high-quality output matched the hype. Of course, not everyone was amused. Comments ranged from questioning the legitimacy of “record trend” to accusing unfair practices—just the usual backlash when something becomes huge. But those dissenting voices fell flat.

“If the song sucked, it wouldn’t be this big.”

Because the track was simply too good. Even blind testing without the MiP bias, people would go “wow!” at this title song. And NewBlack’s massive positive image from weeks on the national variety show acted as a shield.

As idol-community members declared “It’s war!” over their favorite groups,

Those invested in A-TEN’s debut eagerly looked for showcase news. But aside from press-show photos—like humans hugging a TV—there was little new.

In a few days, the broadcast would air anyway, but impatience ruled. Thankfully, anonymous spoilers trickled in. Along with praise for the “Attention” stage, they rated the B-side performances.

And one detail appeared across all posts:

It was talk of NewBlack’s debut track making a big impression.

“What’s that about?”

Ordinary viewers hadn’t seen the live scene, so they were puzzled. Idol fans exclaimed “Oh, that makes sense,” while netizens unfamiliar with NewBlack’s “Bulkkotnori” searched YouTube and Mango for the song. Then,

“......!”

Three minutes thirty seconds later, they turned off Shuffle and hit Repeat.

As more people waited for the Mister Producer live broadcast,

Some industry insiders watching the real-time charts screamed in agony.

“Ah, shit...! Damn it, not again!”

“Again?”

“God, we always lose at this....”

The charts were dominated by NewBlack and their protégés. Top boy groups on the brink of comeback wailed in despair.

In the end, A-TEN overtook us.

They shot to #1 on the daily chart immediately. Their B-sides plummeted to mid-chart, but “Attention” remained firmly in first for days.

It was expected—MiP itself had massive reach.

“Phew....”

I sighed and picked up some meat.

“So we lost in the end.”

“Bitter, huh. ‘The student surpasses...’”

“‘The teacher’.”

“There’s that saying, but still—it stings to be outdone by your pupils.”

“Right. Right.”

“I can’t believe we lost...!”

Muttering indignantly with meat in hand, I raised eyebrows at A-TEN members eating their lunches beside me.

“Hey! You’re second place!”

“You’re literally on the #2 spot!”

“Ah, look at him pouting because he missed #1.”

We wore wistful smiles at seeing “Nakhwa” nestled in second on the daily chart.

“But it’s still second place.”

“This is the first time we’ve been partners on a track, not just Uju’s sidekicks.”

“That’s true.”

“And no one remembers second place....”

“If you doubt us, name the second person to walk on the moon.”

Chu Gi-seok shot his hand up.

“Buzz Aldrin! I saw it on NewBlack TV’s Moon Exploration special! The penalty was wearing a spacesuit!”

“.......”

We shook our heads.

At our sorrowful lament over losing and taking the daily #2 spot, Variety-master Hyung-seop said,

“So that’s you guys.”

“...?”

“Petty yet very capable folks.”

His fitting summary sent us into helpless laughter. We agreed wholeheartedly. We’d tried to be magnanimous, but as soon as we took second, our eyes flickered with competitive fire.

“At first, we weren’t like this, but debut life in this biz makes you hungry for competition....”

“But that’s a good mindset.”

National-team veteran Kim Eui-ji nodded.

“It’s good to think ‘If I’m not first, I’m not satisfied.’ Those aiming for first must harbor grand dreams and pursue them with meticulous planning....”

Chomp-chomp.

“...thereby realizing their true selves....”

Chew-chew.

“Um, seniors.”

“Mmm, yes...?”

“The junior is talking. Aren’t you listening?”

“What did you say?”

We smiled warmly and chewed our lunches, prompting Kim Eui-ji to chuckle.

“Just eat your lunch.”

“Thank you~.”

We laughed together over our bentō.

Today was Friday. We were in the green room for PBS’s music show, MusicOn.

Actor Nam Do-hun patted my shoulder and said,

“I thought debut was the end, but there’s so much more—music shows to perform on.”

“Nothing like I imagined, right?”

“It’s insane. Interviews, TV appearances... I was so surprised at the gates this morning.”

When A-TEN and we arrived together, the photo line nearly collapsed. I’d never seen the PBS security so flustered. If crowd control had slipped, it would’ve landed on the society pages, not entertainment.

Soon, ballad singer Ahn Jae-hee, who had been choking on her “uhh,” broke into a warm smile.

“Anyway, eat this and let’s nail the rest of our promotions. Our instructors.”

“Here, eat this, Uju.”

I laughed as Hong-seok placed prized king-crab atop my rice. Other members, calling it bribery, piled on their side dishes too.

This lavish bento was courtesy of A-TEN’s members, who’d sprung for lunch with their own money.

“Hmm-hmm-hmm.”

Eating definitely gave me energy.

“So you said your final broadcast is this week?”

“Yes.”

“What’s next?”

“Loads to do.”

Our upcoming schedule was packed. Starting with Mr. Han, who’d been eagerly awaiting tracks. We were emailing and collaborating, but we also had to fly to New York to record with Frank Chow and Nostalgia. There were K-pop concerts in New York and LA, plus MTube content shoots with visiting Hollywood actors and singers. Then our next full-length album, and most importantly, our overseas tour.

As we listed everything, A-TEN members, mouths agape, cautiously asked,

“Um, after doing all that, will you have time to sleep?”

We smiled silently, and they piled more side dishes on our plates.

“Honestly, this looks pretty manageable.”

“How so?”

“Well, at this pace....”

Our juniors nodded too. Once laid out, it seemed more doable than expected.

After laughing at A-TEN’s vow never to push their own kids into idols,

“All right, if you’ve finished digesting, shall we head out~?”

We stepped up to support the newly debuted mid-career boy group. We appeared together in backstage interviews during the music show, generating good screen time for both sides—a true win-win.

“Now, this week’s #1 is...?”

“Congratulations! NewBlack!”

After winning first place two weeks in a row, we bowed 90 degrees as we performed “Nakhwa” during encore, a moment that made headlines. Thus, our third-week music show also wrapped as #1.

“Hello! We are A-TEN!”

“And we’re the ones who raised A-TEN—NewBlack! Waaaaa!”

We appeared on entertainment news shows like “Love You, Entertainment News,” and filmed content for NewBlack World aimed at Southeast Asian fans. We even co-starred on K-net’s idol introduction show “Show! Show! Show! Idol High.”

“...!”

“...!”

When MC Bang Moon-soo announced a charades game—“Explain words using only actions!”—Chu Gi-seok and Ri-hyuk both raised hands.

“We want you on our team, Sun Woo-ju!”

“No, I claim the leader!”

They immediately began bickering.

“Uju hyung’s been declared our private property for ages.”

“Isn’t he public property? We all have a stake here.”

“I’ll set this straight: honestly, that guy isn’t ours—he belongs to our CEO.”

“Exactly. Made in Park Gyu-ho.”

“Eh-hey—does any of that matter?”

I interjected.

“So who picks the teams...?”

“Shh! Hyung has no say!”

“Uju, you have no free will right now~”

Their fight over me must’ve yielded at least five minutes of TV time; MCs slapped down their cue cards in glee. I, the subject of their contest, was mortified.

“Then! Let’s do 5 vs. 5 without Uju!”

“Sounds good!”

“The winning team gets to keep him!”

“O! Any MVP perks? I’m trying here!”

“Biju, sit down.”

Thus began the First IdolHigh-sponsored “Claim Sun Woo-ju!” contest.

“Uh-ha-ha-ah!”

“This! How could you not know this! Heyyy!”

“Kim Jung-hyun! You idiot!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry for being an idiot!”

Shouts flew, friendships shattered—it was a horror show to watch. I blinked, and an MC nodded to me and said,

“Uju-ssi, you look really displeased?”

“You all are awful at this.”

“Ha-ha-ha!”

“I’ll just compete solo. Who’s up for a challenge?”

I teamed with one MC and tackled the word “octopus,” waving limbs in a wave motion and emphasizing glossy tentacles. Jiho attempted to whisper the answer, but Ri-hyuk blocked him.

“Octopus!”

From then on, we nailed ten prompts in the time it took the other teams to answer three. Turning to the ten sulking idols, I asked,

“Any objections?”

“.......”

“Then I’ll take the beef, thank you.”

We claimed the steak and wrapped up that day’s filming. Ah—I also posted a smiling photo with the ten trembling contestants on SNS.

After helping A-TEN with their debut activities,

And finishing the final music show,

We returned to our dorm and grilled the beef set we’d received from K-net.

“You all did great work.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“After the overseas tour, you’ll all shed pounds fast. So let’s feast tonight.”

“Yay~!”

We clinked our cola glasses in a toast. A-TEN had debuted successfully, their concert and music-show run concluded—perhaps that’s why I felt so elated. A sense of liberation from completing one project before diving into the next.

“Aaahhh!”

A distant scream drifted in. Jung-hyun, apron tied and grilling meat, said,

“They’re on the sixth floor.”

“Must be super stressed lately.”

“Preparing for a comeback makes sense. Poor thing—I want to feed them meat.”

I remembered and texted Hwiyeon. A moment later, she replied she’d be down in a flash.

“She’s coming.”

“That’s good. I’ll get more meat, hyung.”

Jung-hyun fetched six more portions of sirloin from the fridge. Then he turned on the TV.

“I noticed if the TV’s on, the kids stop cursing. They get distracted.”

“But they curse again during commercials.”

Jiho laughed and glanced at the screen. Saturday at 6 PM: today the Mister Producer showcase from Tuesday would air live. As we watched PBS,

Ding-dong—the doorbell rang. I opened to find Hwiyeon, wrapped head to toe like she was avoiding paparazzi, coming to eat meat.

“Hello, hyung. I’ve come for meat.”

“Oh, you made it?”

“There are watchers everywhere... I managed to sneak out three lettuce leaves.”

I thought she meant a ten-thousand-won bill, but she pulled three damp lettuce leaves in plastic from her pocket.

“But....”

Behind her polite greeting, something was missing.

“And the others...?”

“Oh. Them.”

At my words, the TeenSpirit leader scratched his head and said,

“Did we really need to...?”