In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Across the ocean in the United States.

A new episode dropped on the music documentary.

When viewers who’d watched every available episode saw the notification “Enjoy the new episode!” pop up—

“Oh?”

They clicked the featured documentary while browsing the streaming site.

The latest episode, titled “7. Nostalgia,” caught their eye.

“That was a hit movie last year.”

It was wildly famous as a Broadway musical, but the film had been a mega-hit just the year before.

The documentary preview played automatically.

–They always say you sweat blood to accomplish things...

The handsome man who’d been speaking to the cast and orchestra suddenly let something trickle from the corner of his mouth.

“What the—Is that real blood?”

The teen-heartthrob gently wiped the blood away with a wry smile.

–...Speaking of which, that actually is blood.

Then the preview cut off with a snap.

Reactions varied, but everyone pressed the [Play] icon.

Ta-da! The “N” logo appeared, and the music documentary began.

It was thoroughly fascinating: Emmy-, Grammy-, EGOT-winning composer Frank Chau leading us through the birth of the musical Nostalgia, tracing the roots of its score.

[ Frank Chau / Composer ]

I conceived Nostalgia during a period of real hardship—those days I practically lived buried in books at the library.

He reminisced in front of the New York Public Library, showing exactly which corner sparked each number—subway stations, Vietnamese restaurants, and more.

By mid-episode, the doc had traced the inspirations behind each original song.

[ Narration ]

Then last year, Nostalgia made its spectacular return.

Director John Edwards’ film footage rolled: thousands of stars cascading, books dancing, dazzling visuals...

...and the moment the show returned to the stage as a musical.

When the cast rehearsed lively choreography,

[ Narration ]

this reboot even brings a brand-new number: “Thousand Dreams.”

Foreign-language books whirled around the protagonist played by Rupert Dean in a dance spectacle. Being in the prior year’s top-10 box office, it was a song viewers already knew.

“Oh—that’s it...!”

A rich, ballroom-of-books anthem.

Humming along, I followed the melody until—

“Huh?”

The man from the preview strode in with his entourage. “Hey!” Frank Chau greeted him with a warm embrace.

As American viewers wondered who he was, the five-member group’s intro interview began.

[ The New Black ]

(Spoken in Korean) “Hello! We’re NewBlack!”

A five-member boy band. Footage played of them performing the dance break for “Nine” at the Mango Chart Awards and KMA.

[ Narration ]

The original artist of “Thousand Dreams,” NewBlack is a famous five-member boy band in Korea. They’re also known as the “Kukmin Idol,” meaning “national hero.”

A Korean weekly magazine featuring NewBlack on its cover appeared, followed by Soufflé fans waving twin light-sticks like swords in frenzied fan dances.

[ Narration ]

As a “national hero,” they’re role models, idols to millions of Koreans.

American viewers nodded sagely.

“Don’t know what it means, but they’re huge in Korea.”

Then another question surfaced:

“But why are they here?”

The original artists wouldn’t normally oversee a musical recording.

The camera cut to Uju’s face in serious direction.

[ Narration ]

He’s the composer of “Thousand Dreams.”

Interviews with John Edwards and Frank Chau followed.

–He’s unbelievably versatile. Five minutes into chatting with him about music, I thought, “Damn, this guy is a genius.”

–He proved that musical talent isn’t bound by age. A brilliant gift. When I learned who his father was, it all made sense.

Archive footage showed Seon Myeong-ju, who’d once made a name as a jazz pianist in Europe and the U.S.

But viewers naturally reached the same conclusion without the label “genius.”

Uju drew a wavy line with his pencil, then snapped the pencil’s tip off.

–Cut.

–Why?

–The pitch’s off.

Experts watching frowned at the waveform, said “Huh,” and immediately adjusted.

Then Uju directed like a veteran composer of three decades—correcting even the sitting band members. Viewers found it fresh.

“No wonder he’s idolized in Korea.”

After a brief interview, NewBlack’s segment ended. But it was the episode’s most memorable moment.

–Kiyooot! Ki-yut!

–Imagine yourself as a pterosaur.

–Use your rage, like a Sith tapping into your dark side...

...It was wildly entertaining—so gripping it felt like a reality show or sitcom.

After the documentary ended, viewers typed into the search bar:

“I need to look them up.”

“NewBlack TV on MiTube? They have ten million subscribers—what’s this channel do?”

“Why is that cow-mooing meme popping up in related videos?”

For American and Canadian viewers, this was NewBlack’s first big introduction.

Of course,

pfft!

North American Soufflé fans were included.

“What the—Why is NewBlack here...?”

They’d heard rumors of a New York concert, but not that they’d gone to Broadway to record.

Excited fans started sharing on SNS:

–NewBlack’s in the doc right now!!

An American fan account posted it, a Korean fan reposted, and it spread globally.

As Soufflé fans buzzed about their idols’ “real-job news,” someone tweeted:

@Burning_Souffle

(Video of Ujuseon bleeding and “Kukmin Idol” narration)

“I’m losing it because of my babies lololol What is happening”

That subtitled clip went viral on Korean communities, and everyone cracked up:

–Swooning at the bleeding lol

–Is that real blood?? lol

–If I were the musical staff, I’d be terrified

–Kim Junghyun squashed that can under his jaw—so funny, and creepy

–Bread and circuses are old news. Now it’s blood, sweat, and soda cans

–Blood, sweat (for real), and canned drinks (literally)

–Tsk tsk, Ujuseon’s personality comes through

–They show no mercy to foreigners; no special treatment

–Did he bite his tongue? Surely he wasn’t trying to bleed on purpose?

–No lol, why jump there? Of course he bled on purpose

As usual, someone’s character was lampooned—but the biggest laugh came from “Kukmin Idol.”

–No guys, that’s not it lol

–Who did their research? lol

–If I had to translate, it’s more like national friend... epic hero lol

–Good thing MiTube wasn’t in the B-roll

–American viewers: To be a Korean “wannabe,” do you have to stand on your hands and jump?

–Truly an idol to be proud of

Even as lighthearted jabs flew, no one seriously objected—except in idol forums:

[First-Generation “National Idols”]

[Objectively defining “national” status]

[Is mass appeal the true success measure for idols?]

Rivalries between T-Spirit and NewBlack sparked debates. Outside those idol communities, everyone watched, laughing, as the clip spread beyond forums.

Among the viewers was KM Entertainment’s CEO, spying on NewBlack like a microbe boss eyeing a crab burger.

“What dedication—ready to sweat blood...”

That day, KM staff received group texts:

[“Splitting bones and crushing hearts: We’ll sweat blood for the recording...”]

“Waaah!”

“Someone please tell our CEO to stop watching NewBlack!”

“They’re not human!”

They hadn’t meant harm—but became accidental victims.

Back in the TJ Ent. conference room, I tore my gaze from the laptop.

“...What is this.”

I’d heard the doc would drop soon—they’d shot the core footage already and only needed extra “Thousand Dreams” material. But I hadn’t expected this.

“And what’s with “Kukmin Idol”...?”

Seeing me anguished, Han Mo-ssi laughed. Usually he’d have laughed along at such a doc, so I asked him,

“You already saw it?”

“Of course.”

“When...?”

“The NewBlack alert bot told me.”

Taehyun showed me the SNS notification. Appeared everyone except me and my brothers had seen it. I sent them a chat: “Check the trending searches,” then sighed and stared at the laptop.

Beyond it, A&R staff looked terrified.

“It’s a misunderstanding.”

“...”

“I bit my tongue by accident.”

“Then—ordering you to squawk like a pterosaur...?”

“...”

They averted their eyes. As the original sidekick giggled, I cleared my throat and sat at the head of the table.

“Shall we start the meeting?”

“Yes!”

“...No need to shout it.”

The energized staff sat crisply in a row. As I skimmed the documents on the table, Taehyun politely handed me a straw-stirred chocolate drink.

“Thanks.”

I smiled and studied the project plan: how the solo album was conceived—crucial for maintaining consistency.

“The album concept is ‘sensual sexy.’”

Photos showed shirts and vests from the music video—handsome bartender style.

An A&R member explained:

“The title track is called ‘Mood,’ an R&B song. The notes mention ‘modern anxieties...’ but basically it’s about ‘getting drunk on the vibe at night.’”

“Can we hear it?”

They played it immediately. I swayed to the groove, letting the melody wash over me. “Getting drunk on the vibe at night” was spot-on: smooth lyrics with words like “mood, smooth” matched emotional vocals perfectly.

Taehyun asked, “How is it?”

“Really good. I can picture it: blue flowers, blue birds—an entire blue garden at night. Under a blue moon, silhouettes dancing to the gentle night tune.”

“Next track?”

As we sampled the other songs, I felt the intense scrutiny of their gazes—like they were human lie detectors.

cough cough

When their eyes met mine, they looked away. I appealed to the top idol, who’d been watching me with starry eyes.

“Excuse me, sunbaenim.”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to focus on the music... please tone down the stares.”

“Sorry—ha-ha.”

They moved to the next track. When I furrowed my brow, the executive straightened.

“What’s wrong?”

“You are. You.”

“...”

“I’m itchy from your gaze. Could someone take this guy away?”

At my words, the staff looked helpless; no one dared reprimand a pillar of the company. So I addressed the original sidekick.

“I’d like to concentrate on the music...”

Taehyun nodded seriously and sat back. I told the curious A&R team,

“Please continue.”

I nodded along as the tracks played. True to TJ Ent., they showcased Taehyun’s solo charm—highlighting his vocal range beyond dance, choosing genres that fit him perfectly.

“I think I know how to direct this.”

I continued with questions.

“When’s the solo debut?”

“Digital release is July 18; music show debut July 21.”

The countdown overlapped with Soufflé’s formation anniversary. I muttered as I checked my calendar,

“Not much time left.”

“It might be tight, so we’ve pre-arranged a choreographer. We’ll start dance rehearsals.”

“...That sounds brutal. Shouldn’t we scrap the double title track?”

“No way—that stage is a must.”

The A&R team laughed.

“Taehyun said this song is so his that he has to perform it live.”

“Hmmm...”

I worried the schedule was too intense—but then realized the person before me wasn’t the trainee they once knew. He had four more years of experience than me now; I trusted him to manage his condition.

When A&R asked about “Survivor” details, I answered:

“In terms of color, a navy-blue palette works. Think milky-way backdrop.”

I suggested which aspects to emphasize for the stage.

“A heavier feel is good. The low-midrange is the song’s point—it amplifies his voice’s charm. His tone is so delicate.”

“Right—I’m that delicate~”

“And about what you just said...”

As we ticked off every detail, the staff laughed.

“You know Taehyun better than we do.”

“Maybe from working with him since trainee days.”

Taehyun jumped in excitedly.

“I told you—I know Survivor inside out. I know him so well.”

“I know his tells when he lies.”

When I joked, someone shouted “Don’t you dare tell us!” We wrapped up the meeting and headed to the recording studio.

“Ooh...!”

I was momentarily dazzled by the top-tier equipment.

“Hello!”

“Long time no see! Wow, look at you.”

“Been ages, right?”

“You looked so tiny; now you’re all grown up.”

I fist-bumped TJ Ent. producers and engineers—teachers who taught me composition, friends from my trainee days. They laughed at me settling into the chair.

“You were a kid; now you’re the old man.”

“What? I’m still young.”

I smiled at their warm greetings—memories of that studio being my refuge when dancers berated me in lessons.

The producers said:

“Really, we’re so happy you made it.”

“Thank you.”

“Those idiots on the sixth floor....”

When the planning team had tried to drop me, these folks argued to keep me and nurture my composing. A belated but heartfelt gratitude.

Then the engineers turned serious.

“Uju.”

“Yes?”

“So for old times’ sake, take it easy on him...”

“....”

I narrowed my eyes; they looked away.

“Watching that doc—sweating blood to torture Americans...”

“Look at him. No longer that cute kid; there’s the Ujuseon expression.”

“Shh! Don’t provoke him. Who knows what’ll happen.”

“Did you see that appearance by Sang-yun? His face got so gaunt at Lemon he looked half his size.”

As I questioned my image in this industry—

–I’m ready!–

Taehyun, warming up in the booth, gave me a thumbs-up.

I pressed the talkback.

“When you’re ready, let’s go.”

Taehyun took a deep breath and signaled OK, then hit play.

It was the first recording of “Survivor.”

At first the vibe was fresh.

But over time, Ujuseon revealed his true colors.

“Taehyun.”

–Yes?

“I’ll take that again. Your breath just broke.”

He chased perfection—any slip was cut, with direction.

Even takes others would call “fine” were ruthlessly severed.

But his standards were clear.

“I know you can do better. Let’s try one more time.”

–Yes, I’ll sing it again!

He’d only move on when convinced it could be better.

“Tough.”

He smiled politely and asked for “one more”—over and over. I wondered if a blunt tirade would be better.

“Still, he’s great. Taehyun, you’re killing it.”

As producers admired, Taehyun, deep in thought, spoke through the talkback.

–Sorry, could we run that last take again?

“Why? That sounded good. Something bothering you?”

–I can sing it better.

“Alright, let’s do it once more.”

The recording resumed. Then—

–Not quite. One more. How was that?

“The high notes...”

–In my opinion, the high notes...

They smiled.

“As expected.”

–I thought we’d sync well, composer-nim!

Then he dove back in, energized.

Only then did the producers shift their attention from Ujuseon to the performer in the booth.

“Right...”

I’d forgotten the man before me was TJ Ent.’s toughest workhorse—known for late-night practice sessions, earning his booth the nickname “lighthouse.”

“I’m glad they’re a good match.”

I smiled warmly—then—

“Huh...?”

“Huh...?”

The producers exchanged glances. A spark-spark combo, with logs ready to roar.

Whoosh! The studio air ignited.

“Huh?”

“Are we screwed?”

Their eyes glistened as they braced for a long night.

Just then, a commotion broke the solemn mood.

“Huh?”

Thump-thump-thump! Someone pounded down the hallway outside the booth.

One of them peeked out.

“The security team’s deployed.”

“Security team?”

“Something must’ve happened—they ran off like mad. Said someone broke in.”

“Really?”

They shrugged and returned to the session.

“Did intruders get into the company...?”

Between NewBlack’s visit and today’s events, it felt like anything could happen at ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) this place.