In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

“That really hits me in the chest.”

How lonely must he be to play a board game and wish the day would never end.

Having always been surrounded by people, I couldn’t imagine it.

A body that couldn’t run and play with peers.

The solitude of assembling LEGO or reading books and waiting for someone to come.

When the game ended, Min-jun tried to stand.

“Mom, I need to go to the bathroom.”

As his mother rose, his father gently stopped her.

“Honey, rest a bit. I’ll take him.”

His father took Min-jun’s hand and carefully walked him to the bathroom.

Seeing how difficult each step was, I asked his mother,

“Is walking very painful?”

“They changed his medication recently. It’s so strong his feet are swollen.”

“That must be hard. I feel for you.”

“I’m fine. My husband and the boys help me so much it’s bearable.”

She said boldly, and I gave her a warm smile.

Our conversation was cut short by a nurse coming to check his blood pressure. Biju’s mother chatted cheerfully with her and handed her an apple slice.

“These are the idols my child works with. Say hello.”

“Hello.”

Unintentionally, we had a brief autograph session.

Realizing, “Oh, I’m an idol,” one of those moments.

Watching Biju’s mother chatting warmly with the nurse, I asked,

“You’re quite friendly. Is she Min-jun’s regular nurse?”

“No, we just met.”

“...You’re very good at making friends.”

While the two younger boys cleared the board game and tidied the bed, Min-jun emerged from the bathroom.

He steadied himself against the wall.

“Dad, I’ll rest a moment then walk.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

As his father waited patiently, Jun-hyun strode over.

“I’ll help you.”

He gently lifted Min-jun and carried him back to the bed.

When he tucked the blanket around him, Min-jun’s face relaxed into a peaceful smile.

“Jun-hyun really takes good care of him.”

“He likes Jun-hyun more than me.”

Biju said with a laugh, then sat beside Jun-hyun and tapped his brother’s cheek like a parent soothing a child.

Seeing that, I accepted another apple slice from Mrs. Kim.

Hmm. How many have I eaten today?

I think I’m done with apples for a while.

Hospital corridor.

A colleague asked a beaming nurse,

“Kim, why are you so happy?”

“Room 3. There’s a really pretty boy in there.”

“Oh, that room?”

“He’s apparently an idol.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes! I spoke with the guardian—he’s from that group who sang Something.”

“Something? Never heard of them.”

“It’s huge with teens. Remember Baek in karaoke last week? That song.”

“Oh, that one? We cross paths often and I didn’t know.”

“And they’ve been on TV too.”

She proudly showed a Music Café clip on her phone.

“All five of them were here?”

“Yeah, they came for a visit.”

“I’ll have to go autograph for my daughter later. Are they rude like most celebs?”

“They’re super cute. They even took out their own fan photos for autographs.”

As the nurses talked, a passing resident poked his head in.

“What are you talking about?”

“Doctor, come here.”

The resident perked up—until he learned they were idols, then that they were a boy group.

“I’m not into boy groups. What’s their name?”

“New... wait. Here it is. New Black.”

“New Black?”

He frowned. When the nurses wondered, he snapped,

“Isn’t that who Professor Choi mentioned?”

“Oh!” they exclaimed in unison.

“Did Professor come in today?”

“He should have.”

“Mention it casually later—he’ll come running.”

The nurse who’d gotten an autograph looked baffled.

“Professor Choi likes idols?”

“You don’t know,” the senior nurse said meaningfully.

“There’s someone special in that group.”

After Min-jun fell asleep, the five of us chatted with Biju’s parents.

“Oh dear, the apples are almost gone.”

At Mrs. Kim’s remark, we all sighed in relief.

Her husband asked with a smile,

“Shall I get more?”

“No need. I’ll have Biju buy some. Biju, Mom will give you money to get snacks and apples at the hospital shop. And pick up some cooling sheets for Min-jun’s forehead at the pharmacy.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll come too.”

I volunteered, and the two younger boys, who’d been waiting to volunteer, were crestfallen. Unlike Jun-hyun eagerly eating apples, they couldn’t refuse more.

As we left the room, I said,

“Mrs. Kim really loves apples.”

“It’s her highest form of affection.”

Biju laughed.

“She grew up in an orchard family. Her grandfather only gave fruit to her uncle. If Grandma or Aunt tried to eat apples, he’d scold them, so she only got apples on birthdays.”

“That is true affection.”

We chatted as we reached the basement shop.

“Biju, may I ask something?”

“Sure.”

I hesitated, then asked him while he inspected refrigerated apples.

“About Min-jun’s situation.”

“What about it?”

“You said his treatment’s been going on for almost five years. But your complexion only worsened recently.”

“No, I was fine.”

I pulled out my phone and opened my notes, reading aloud.

“April 27: Biju ironed the boys’ uniforms by mistake on his day off—Ji-ho loved it. May 3: Biju spaced out again, made nearly ten mistakes in the same movement and got scolded by the trainer. Ri-hyuk was relieved.”

“What is this?”

“Consider it a diary and an observation log by the leader.”

I lowered the phone.

“That’s only what I’ve seen. Haunted breakfast, too—no need to add more. You’ve been acting oddly. Even Ji-ho noticed.”

“Ji-ho? He wouldn’t...”

“You’ve been really strange lately.”

Biju put down the apple and picked up another snack. I grabbed the biscuits and barley tea Ri-hyuk wanted and said casually,

“So what’s the problem?”

“...Min-jun might need surgery again.”

“What?”

I threw aside my casual tone.

“What are you talking about?”

“Min-jun’s condition worsened recently. They might have to operate again.”

Biju sighed.

“It’s complicated. Raising surgery and chemo funds. Our family isn’t well-off—you wouldn’t know. Even if Dad and my sister earn, it all goes to his treatment.”

“....”

“And we can’t decide to do surgery on our own. Doctors’ schedules are full. We want a renowned surgeon even if it means debt, but honestly, I don’t know if he can hold on that long.”

Biju looked sorrowful.

“You asked what the problem is, hyung?”

“Right....”

“It’s everything. A sibling living daily in hell for five years. A mother who’s never been able to attend a single gathering. A father working extra as a driver after work. A sister who gave up her dreams for a job she hates. That’s the problem.”

It felt like the weight in his chest was spilling free.

The Biju before me was unfamiliar.

Behind his calm smile lay something I’d never expected.

Only the hushed tone remained familiar.

“Sometimes I hate him in a terrifying way. When his fever spikes and he cries, ‘Hyung, save me,’ I find it disgusting.”

“....”

“I don’t know anymore. I’m sick of it.”

Had “sick of it” had form, it would have been crushed beyond recognition when Biju spoke it.

“I endured for five years. Believed next year would be better. That he’d be cured and we’d live happily ever after.”

And Biju continued, recounting everything since Min-jun got sick—his father’s failed business and white hair sprouting on his mother, the sister who’d wanted law school becoming a tutor—and how each time his heart had ached.

His calm voice unraveled his pain.

“I don’t know, hyung. What will I do if he leaves me?”

His eyes stained like wet paint.

I met Biju’s gaze in silence.

Seeing his terrified, lost look, I wondered what to say.

Optimistic “It’ll be okay.”

Platitude “It’s not your fault.”

Empathetic “I understand your pain.”

None matched what weighed on my heart.

So I decided to speak plainly.

“No one knows what will happen.”

Like when Mom and Dad’s plane crashed on my seventh birthday.

“Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes they’re blessings beyond your wildest dreams; sometimes they’re horrifying. You can’t ask ‘Why?’—you mustn’t.”

“....”

“Because it’s not your fault.”

I spoke to Biju, still listening quietly.

“I’d love to tell you everything will be fine—that would be a lie. You never know what’s coming. It’s like standing by the sea: sometimes a gentle breeze, sometimes a sudden wave.”

“Is that so?”

Biju sighed.

“What should I do then...?”

“Do what you want.”

I said.

“But what matters is no matter what you go through, we’ll be here with you. It might sound cheesy, but you’re not alone. We’re in this together.”

We’ll be with you.

Whether a wave crashes or a breeze tickles, we’ll share your joy and grief—that was my promise.

Though a shallow comfort, it seemed to help.

“Thank you.”

Biju offered a wry smile.

Relieved to see him steadier, I nodded.

“Shall we go? Have you chosen?”

“Oh—I haven’t picked my apples yet.”

“Let’s see... choose these.”

“These?”

“I went to the market with Grandma—I know apples well.”

“There’s one with a worm hole.”

“...Grandma always picked them. Let’s get what you’d originally chosen.”

Watching Biju truly smile, I exhaled.

I’d need to buy tissues on the way.

An awkward silence.

“Hyung.”

“Yes?”

“About what we talked about in the shop—could you forget it?”

“Unless there’s a Neuralyzer from Men in Black, I doubt it.”

“What’s that? A webtoon?”

“Nothing. Yes, I’ll pretend the others don’t know.”

“Thank you.”

Awkward silence again.

Uncomfortable.

I broke the silence.

“Let’s think of solutions.”

“Solutions?”

“We said we’d be here for you.”

“Oh....”

A pause.

“I meant actually helping.”

“No, no. That’d be a burden. Just making time like today is enough.”

“Okay. You do the chores in the dorm, right? Ri-hyuk can do light cleaning and folding. Let’s share the rest.”

“Oh.”

“Any problem with that?”

“Well...”

Biju gave an awkward laugh.

“Hyung, this might sound weird...but I actually enjoy doing chores.”

“What?”

“I like cooking and hearing praise for it, or how clean it gets when I tidy. It feels good.”

Seeing my expression change, Biju added,

“It’s like what you said—you became an idol because you liked attention on Music Café. I’m the same—my theme is chores... weird, right?”

Biju trailed off, and I nodded.

“Weird as hell.”

“You put the director in the fridge,” he shot back.

“Well, that was weird too.”

I had no comeback—and was a bit surprised.

I’d thought his cooking and chores were compulsions from childhood responsibility, not enjoyment.

“I never guessed you wanted to be a housekeeper.”

“So we joked—if idol life ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) didn’t work, how about marrying into a wealthy family? I like chores.”

“That might have better prospects...”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Biju narrowed his eyes like Ri-hyuk, then laughed. I laughed too.

Oddly, I felt closer to him. Maybe from our deep talk—like the fence between us had lowered a notch.

From merely peeking over the fence to exchanging handshakes.

“So what else can we do...?”

“No need. You already solved the hospital bills.”

“I did?”

“I talked with the director.”

“Oh.”

I remembered: when we were in the A&R lounge, Biju went to the director’s room with a world-weary look.

“He asked if I could get an advance on royalties from Something. He agreed.”

So that was why.

“That’s great. Was it enough?”

“My family opened the account together—they were shocked.”

Biju laughed.

“We made more than we thought. Enough to handle Min-jun’s bills for now. Mom and Dad are too shy to say, but they’re grateful.”

“No wonder we kept getting apples...”

“Just wait. All yours, hyung.”

Ugh. I’m never saying “apple” again—except to Grandma.

Lost in how to legally avoid fruit, we reentered the ward.

Then.

While talking with Biju, I spotted a man at the far end.

A middle-aged man walking alone.

Huh? Something’s off.

I tilted my head—and suddenly the world seemed to shift in slow motion.