In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries—no need for you to feel bad. There’s nothing we can do about the copy count difference. One of us couldn’t exactly die over it.”

“Well, that’s true.”

On the video call screen, the gentle-faced youngster waved and smiled.

“I’m just trying to treat it as a funny little incident and move on.”

At that moment, noisy voices cut into Whiyeon’s and my call.

“Damn! We could’ve tied for first place, and it was only one copy! Just one copy difference!”

“Next time, let’s just eliminate one of them so this never happens again!”

“Flip it—overturn it—!”

Amid the chorus of voices choosing their sacrificial victim by playfully chanting “flip it,” Whiyeon smiled and said,

“One moment, oppa.”

After a barrage of “shut up” and “I don’t wanna,” Whiyeon moved into his dorm room and continued the call, then beamed.

“I’m handling it positively, as you can see.”

“Let’s just agree to each buy one copy from now on.”

“Y-yes...”

Despite saying he’d take it in stride as a fun happening, Whiyeon looked a bit crestfallen. For some reason, I found it relatable and chuckled.

“But I really think your full album’s gonna sell like crazy. Congrats in advance.”

T-Spirit’s third full album was very likely to clinch the all-time first-week sales record. Although first-week numbers only become certain when counted, their trajectory differed from ours. Forecasts put them between 400,000 and 500,000 copies—a scale we’d never seen before, and it was breathtaking.

“Thank you, oppa. Have you heard the title track?”

“I have—‘Demonic.’ I watched the music video as soon as it dropped and downloaded the song.”

“How is it?”

His eyes sparkled.

“The performance is truly dazzling. Your image transformation is spot-on.”

“Whoa.”

“I think your fans are going to love it.”

Wasn’t the concept a fallen angel so furious they’re pissed off? In the MV, T-Spirit wore red contact lenses and danced like seductive demons—fallen angels turned fire demons. It was clearly a departure from their fresh, clean concepts, and the quality was superb. Not a mainstream crowd-pleaser, perhaps, but if I were a T-Spirit fan, I’d absolutely love it.

Whiyeon smiled.

“Hearing that from you makes me feel better. Thanks to the fans, our chart performance has held up pretty well...”

“Oh, really?”

“We’re #4 on the daily chart, oppa.”

“Ooh.”

“Well, it’ll probably drop like crazy soon, but there’s a difference between dying at the top and dying at the bottom.”

I nodded at Whiyeon’s satisfied smile. Then, gazing past my dozing younger members, I looked out the window. A mist-shrouded Yeongjong Bridge passed by, and a sign announced Incheon Airport ahead.

“But where are you guys headed?”

“We’ve got New York on the schedule this time.”

“Oh, the K-pop concert.”

“That, and Nostalgia is debuting as a musical in the U.S. We need to record a musical version of ‘Thousand Dreams’ for the OST.”

“Wow.”

Eyes wide in amazement, Whiyeon joked,

“Like a Broadway musical or something?”

“Exactly. Broadway.”

“No way—Broadway? Real Broadway? Cats dancing? Phantom of the Opera?”

“Yep.”

His eyes grew even larger—then a scream from Whiyeon sent the other T-Spirit members bursting into the room.

“Damn! What’s up?”

“If it’s nothing, you’re dead meat, seriously!”

I saw Whiyeon clutch his head.

“I’m older than you jerks....”

He relayed word-for-word what I’d just told him. The kids’ eyes went round.

“Broadway? Real Broadway? Cats dancing, opera ghosts, flying on witches’ brooms?”

“I’m serious.”

“Wow....”

They’d never thought it was such a big deal. To them, I was just going to record a track overseas; they looked at me like someone who’d gone to collect an award at an international ceremony. I laughed sheepishly, and their eyes glittered.

“Please tell us all about it when you get back, oppa.”

“Wow—someone living next door works on stuff like that.”

“Amazing. You really are different—so adult, oppa.”

I laughed and thanked them for calling me an adult.

“Hey, hey! Get out! Let me finish!”

“They always tell me to get out. They treat me like a cheering stick.”

The youngsters shot me a bright, 90-degree salute.

“Have a good trip, oppa!”

“You all take care too.”

After the members and the room’s host exchanged friendly middle fingers as a farewell, I wrapped up the call. Then, planning to catch up on my own sleep, I heard—

“Um...”

He didn’t hang up. As I narrowed my eyes at his fidgeting lips, I realized he looked like he wanted to ask advice.

“Whiyeon.”

“Yes, oppa?”

“Are you nervous about this whole thing?”

“Y-yes...”

Whiyeon sighed.

“I’m so jittery I can’t do Y-App. What if fans scold us over that one-copy difference?”

“I don’t think they’ll blame you for that.”

“They probably won’t, but I still feel really sorry. And I don’t know how to address it in a post or stream.”

It was clearly his first time dealing with such a bizarre incident.

“You guys have more experience with this kind of thing than I do—you’re older, more seasoned.”

“Older?”

“I’m saying we really look up to you.”

“Well, why don’t you talk it over with the other members?”

“As you can see...”

Whiyeon trailed off bitterly.

“They can’t even get basic arithmetic right. People are hopeless....”

I burst out laughing at that and immediately offered a few helpful tips.

Buzzzz.

T-Spirit fans’ phones vibrated.

[Surprise Live Starting]

Everyone rushed to tap the notification.

Soon, a Y-App live screen showed six youths crowded together in the dorm. Their forlorn expressions, as if tears could fall any moment, had everyone laughing. Each wore a white bunny-ear headband.

“Hello...”

Their voices were hesitant, their eyes moist.

“We were worried you might be upset about the album situation... so we wanted to show this and hopefully cheer you up.”

T-Spirit spoke with glistening eyes.

“We’re sorry! There’s one extra of us...”

“From now on, we’ll each buy just one copy.”

It was both cute and heartfelt. Meanwhile,

‘Sorry, I’m so, so sorry....’

Though their words sounded like that, fans just squealed “Kyaa!” and snapped screenshots.

‘Our kids are too innocent!’

Not entirely untrue—but upper-floor residents might have rolled their eyes at such a notion.

The journey to New York was the same as always.

“Ahhh!”

The sight of entertainment reporters being swept along was spectacular. Whenever we walked through Incheon Airport, the crowd surged like a school of salmon caught in rapids. Even the private security guards from the airport’s contracted firm were swept away.

“Oppa!”

A couple playing tourists reenacted the tale of Gyeonwoo and Jiknyeo. In Hong Kong, the crowds were smaller, but our flight to New York left during peak traffic.

“Mr. Uju! Mr. Ujuuu!”

“Excuse me—ahhh!”

We truly felt the popularity from the MIP idol special. Episode 6’s debut showcase hit 30% viewership, then episode 7 still landed in the 20s—impressive numbers by today’s standards. The airport ordeal was overwhelming.

“Huff...”

The youngest wiped his sweat in his seat.

“I’ll have to change clothes later, hyung.”

“You’re sweating?”

“Yes?”

“Me too.”

It wasn’t just him; we were all soaked. Ri-hyuk looked like a shipwreck survivor stranded on a deserted island. Worried he might have passed out, I checked his nose—he was breathing.

“Whew.”

Our third member barely wiped a drop of sweat—such was the exhausting departure. Thankfully, we had first-class seats, which made it bearable. Flying always gives me anxiety, but a top-tier seat makes it “pleasantly anxious.” After a solid 14-hour sleep, we landed at rainy JFK.

Ri-hyuk said, “I wondered when we’d come back after last time—already two visits.”

“How many months has it been? Three?”

“About that.”

Time-wise, three months, but it felt like a year. Having been here before, the unfamiliarity was lessened and we’d picked up a few tricks. Ri-hyuk called Jiho over.

“Jiho, don’t say ‘brother’ during immigration. Just be ‘male’ to avoid suspicion.”

“Got it.”

The youngest grumbled, “I don’t like this in America—can’t call you ‘hyung.’ I’m not some Go Gil-dong.”

“Go Gil-dong, you dummy... oh, I don’t know how I’ll survive with him.”

“They’re just confused, that’s all.”

Jung-hyun gently patted the youngest’s head.

“I’m glad you’re healthy.”

“Aww...”

“Want some jelly?”

“Yes.”

I watched the two munching jelly and laughed, then called to Biju.

“Biju!”

“Yes.”

“Stop wandering off—stick close to me.”

I grabbed the second member, who was drifting like a broken robotic vacuum, smiling all the while. Having lost someone in Japan before, I’m extra cautious in foreign airports. During immigration, the officer looked at me and smiled.

“Oh! Here on vacation... no, on business.”

He checked my visa and raised his eyebrows. After clearing immigration, my brothers burst out laughing.

“Hahaha!”

“Hyung, dressed like that, they’ll definitely think you’re a tourist.”

“Well, I do look like one.”

I was wearing a luxury floral shirt fit for summer—my best effort at fashion, yet mistaken for a tourist. I told my giggling brothers, “This isn’t exactly tourist wear.”

“But everyone thinks so.”

I turned to the managers.

“You look like tourists, Uju.”

“No....”

“If you don’t believe me, hang a camera around your neck. See how people react.”

I draped the film camera Jung-hyun gave me around my neck. Walking in “model mode,” I caught the eye of what looked like an airport security guard. I smiled and nodded; he nodded back.

“Have a nice trip!”

My brothers and staff burst into laughter. Sneaking a sideways glance, I waved both hands and smiled broadly at the guard.

“Yay— I love New York!”

Next time, I’ll rethink my wardrobe.

“Hello, everyone!”

Fans were waiting even at JFK—about a hundred waving placards, a bigger turnout than last year’s LA fan meeting/concert, which was only a dozen. I thought, “Wow, our U.S. fanbase really has grown.”

As we climbed into the car, I waved back at the American Souple outside. One placard caught my eye:

[Make sure Biju is accounted for!]

It featured Biju’s photo like a missing-person flyer, complete with an arrow. I laughed.

“We’d never lose Biju-hyung.”

I turned with four others to confirm Biju was there—he was—then we all laughed. We rolled down the windows, waved at fans, and the car moved on.

With a relaxed free day before the real schedule starts tomorrow, Manager Seok-hwan said, “Today, rest and do some sightseeing. Tomorrow, we kick off in earnest.”

“For the musical recording, you know more than me, Uju. How about the interview prep?”

“I’ve got my talking points ready.”

Our Broadway itinerary wasn’t just the musical recording. Frank Chow, producer of “Nostalgia,” recently invited us to a documentary interview—an OTT platform’s series exploring classic hits, covering Nostalgia numbers and mentioning “Thousand Dreams.” Since the world’s largest OTT just launched in Korea, it’s big news.

The youngest giggled, “Good thing I prepaid. Soon everyone will see Uju-hyung’s face...!”

“They said that program won’t air in Korea.”

“Huh—figures. Anything I’d want to watch never comes to Korea.”

While we laughed, Seok-hwan continued, “We’ll also set up a pop-up store for the New York concert.”

“A pop-up store?”

“We need data. Excluding Southeast Asia, your MyTube engagement is highest here—in Canada, the U.S., Mexico, North America.”

“I did see a lot of Americans watching.”

“The metrics are impressive, but we need firsthand observation.”

Unlike last year’s tour, this one goes through Japan, Southeast Asia, and Australia. North America was planned but replaced by a joint LA/New York concert hosted by K-Net. Joint events draw far larger crowds, and we don’t have solid data on the North American fandom size.

The youngest asked, “Is collecting that data hard?”

“It’s all your fault,” our TF team leader teased. “Every time we try to get accurate numbers, the figures keep changing... 10 + 17 = 27, then 17 shifts to 13, then we fix 13 and the others change again.”

Since “Nakhwa,” the fandom’s grown rapidly, making overseas estimates tricky.

“We’ll check again after the concert...”

“Why after the concert?”

“After the Paris joint concert, fancams went up and orders for ‘Dalbong’ surged in Europe.”

“Shows that the core work is what counts.”

We shared warm smiles. We’d prepped our performance to the point of exhaustion, and it paid off.

“That’s the schedule rundown. Today, relax—you won’t often have free rein like this here.”

“I’ve already planned a full itinerary. Tae-hyun gave me tons of New York restaurant recs.”

“No need to plan the whole trip... fine, do as you like.”

The manager, defeated, waved his hand. “Let’s check you’ve memorized the plan.”

Ri-hyuk unfurled a map and reviewed the itinerary—Biju and Ri-hyuk had brainstormed the best way to enjoy New York. Just as we were ticking off destinations:

“Oh, right.”

Seok-hwan patted his coat pocket. “Just in case, I got Broadway tickets. Interested in seeing a show?”

“Awesome!”

Eyes shining, we rejoiced at the rare sight of Broadway tickets.

“Let’s make today unforgettable in New York.”

“Let’s have a blast, everyone!”

“No one fall asleep—I plan to stay up all night!”

“Keep your eyes wide open—no dozing off!”

We cheered, brimming with anticipation for our first night in New York.

Three hours later, in the midst of the musical:

As always, the one who suggests pulling an all-nighter on a school trip is the first to fall asleep.

“....”

With soft snores beside him, Seo Ri-hyuk massaged his temples.

‘These idiots....’

They had all insisted on staying up, yet now the four brothers were fast asleep. Jet lag, accumulated fatigue, and dialogue in an unfamiliar language combined to create this scene. Whenever the youngest tried to lean his head on him while slurping, Ri-hyuk gently blocked him, sighing as he jotted down notes in his notebook—so he could explain the plot at dinner.

By the time he was fully engrossed in note-taking, the musical had ended.

“....”

The quartet of snoozers still slumped, and our two managers mumbled in their sleep. As people passed by chuckling, Ri-hyuk couldn’t lift his head.

‘So embarrassing.’

Luckily, we weren’t in Korea. Rubbing his ears and cheeks to quell his burning shame, a nearby patron stopped and asked with a smile,

“Long day, huh?”

“Ah.”

Ri-hyuk stood and returned the smile.

“They’re not with me. They’re all strangers.”

“Oh...”

Just as the patron turned to leave, Ri-hyuk sensed they had more to say and paused them. The patron sheepishly raised their phone and asked,

“If possible, may I take a photo? You’re NewBlack, right?”

“...!”

“I’m going to your concert this week.”

Hot flush spreading from chin to ears, Ri-hyuk covered his face as color warning lights blazed across him. Then—

“Um, excuse me!”

The tomato-faced youth dashed off at top speed, leaving the patron stunned.