In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The top floor of TJ Ent.

In the antique-filled executive office, Chairman Park Tae-joon was wearing a delighted smile.

“This little thing.”

He stroked something glossy.

The smooth texture beneath his fingertips, reflecting sunlight through the window...!

Of course, it was a piece of porcelain, radiant with lustrous color.

“At last you’ve rolled into my arms, you rascal!”

This antique had been won at auction in the States.

Chairman Park’s lips curved into a smile as he flipped between the enclosed certificate and the vase itself.

“Come into Daddy’s arms now. Heh heh heh heh.”

With a grin that must have made the porcelain cringe, Chairman Park cradled it in his arms.

He exhaled.

“Hoho, hoho...”

Rubbing the vase with a cloth, he glanced around the display case.

The cases—built to withstand even earthquakes—held the treasures he’d collected around the world.

“Here, I’ve prepared a special spot just for you. Wahahaha!”

As he wiped his brow and laughed, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

His secretary entered.

“Chairman.”

“Oh—Secretary Yoon.”

“I have a report to make.”

The secretary hurried forward as the chairman asked,

“By the way, what are those kids up to? Are they enjoying the tour of the building?”

“Yes.”

“The members of NewBlack are still touring the offices, and I hear the atmosphere is very good.”

“That’s as it should be.”

“They should be wrapping up soon...”

“When they’re done, summon them here. I’ll serve tea and have a word with them.”

“Yes, Chairman.”

Satisfied, Chairman Park nodded and turned back to his secretary.

“So what was it you wanted to report?”

“...It’s also related to the NewBlack members.”

“Is there a problem?”

“There was a minor incident during the tour.”

When Park Tae-joon thought there’d been some trivial mishap, the secretary continued:

“One of the paintings you treasure...”

“What?!”

His heart dropped.

“N-no damage, right?”

“Mr. Jung-hyun tapped the wall while laughing, and all the paintings on display fell down.”

“...”

“Fortunately, none of the paintings were damaged, but the frames broke... so they need to be replaced...”

Chairman Park listened in a daze as the secretary jabbered on, then asked,

“How hard did he tap the wall for everything to fall?”

“...It’s unbelievable, but he really just tapped it.”

“Do you think that makes any sense?”

Under the chairman’s roar, the secretary muttered to himself, “It’s true...,” and showed him the video.

Park clicked his tongue.

“Good grief. How could a single tap knock down paintings? Even when I hang them, I’m careful...”

On the tablet, the NewBlack members were giggling, and Jung-hyun really did tap the wall once.

Three seconds later...

Though there was no sound, the frames toppled and the glass shattered—CRASH!—on the video.

“...”

Park Tae-joon pressed play again.

‘What on earth am I watching?’

He’d actually tapped the wall once, and every frame came crashing down, like an ancient sage had released qi from his fingertip.

“...Are the paintings intact?”

“Yes. There’s not a scratch. Lemon Ent. offered to compensate...”

“Tell them we’ll take care of it. We can’t lose goodwill over frame replacements.”

The frame cost was no small thing, but trivial compared to NewBlack’s value.

“As long as the paintings are fine, that’s what matters.”

The collector’s face softened at the news that the collection was safe.

He sipped his herbal tea for reassurance, then offered the cup to his secretary—who hesitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s one more thing to report.”

“You didn’t break any statues, did you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

The secretary paused, and Chairman Park chuckled.

“Then it’s nothing serious. What happened this time...?”

“Mr. Bi-ju infiltrated the archives room.”

“Pfft—what?!”

Chairman Park’s eyes went wide.

‘Why on earth would he go in there?’

The archives room—though called that—held some extremely sensitive documents.

“How did he get in there? It’s one of the most restricted areas.”

“He said he got lost going to the restroom.”

“....”

How do you get that lost?

A video began to play before Chairman Park.

Onscreen, Kim Bi-ju, asking, [Where am I? ㅠㅠ], then sheepishly typing, [I’m sorryㅠㅠㅠ I’m such an idiot], held up his phone.

“He even had a high-level access card...”

“Who gave him that?”

“....I did.”

The secretary glanced nervously at him. Chairman Park stifled the thought “What idiot...” only to realize,

‘That idiot was me.’

Wahahaha—wahahaha.

Chief Park smiled warmly and nodded.

‘I really am the idiot.’

He massaged the back of his neck, thinking how lucky Lemon Ent. had been to obtain such extraordinary talent.

His gaze drifted to the porcelain across the room.

‘Manager Gyu-ho.’

He recalled the most capable TJ Ent. manager.

‘Gyu-ho, you’ve been working hard.’

Chairman Park smiled serenely and nodded again.

“Anything else noteworthy?”

“No. Aside from the fact that NewBlack is still touring, there’s nothing.”

“...”

He glanced at his watch. It was still broad daylight.

“When did they say they’d leave?”

“They said after dinner.”

“...”

It would be five or six hours before sunset. Then the most important thing struck him.

“Ah!”

“Chairman?”

“The... the thing! Those kids I told to come up here—cancel it. Absolutely do not let them in.”

Even if the display cases could withstand earthquakes, he wasn’t sure if they—and NewBlack—could.

He wouldn’t let his obsession crumble, even if the building itself did.

“Sir—”

“Yes?”

“But—”

At that moment, footsteps—bright and lively—echoed outside, turning his silver hairs on end.

“Oh no!”

Giggles. Whees.

“What on earth do we do now?”

“Should we send them back?”

“No. Let’s pretend we’re not here.”

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Knock knock.

“...”

The two men held their breaths.

Comforted by those words, the two relaxed—until a deep voice said warmly:

Chairman Park nodded.

Right—let them wait and get tired of it.

Chairman Park bolted from his chair at top speed.

“...What exactly were they doing in here?”

Bi-ju risked arrest by security, Jung-hyun broke frames with telekinesis—what on earth had they been up to?

I burst out laughing at the commemorative photos with Chairman Park.

Taehyun peeked his head out.

“What’s so funny? Hahaha!”

The juniors laughed brightly while the chairman looked terrified—like he was sending an SOS that read, “Help me! These rogues are threatening me!”

Taehyun said,

“I haven’t seen Chairman Park’s face like that in ages.”

“Really?”

“Whenever our stock tanks and hundreds of billions vanish from market cap, he pulls that face—stroking his porcelain.”

What must they have done to inspire that expression—comparable to massive stock losses?

I thought about it briefly and decided to drop it; I didn’t have the mental energy to ponder further.

“Zzzzzz~”

After saving and backing up the session file, I sank into my chair.

Taehyun, sprawled on the sofa, asked,

“That’s it?”

“Finished.”

Bright sunlight streamed through the window.

7:00 a.m.

Having successfully wrapped ‘Survivor’ recording, Taehyun and I both burst out, “Uaaaah!” in triumph.

“But we look dreadful.”

Our reflections in the booth glass were pathetic: sunken eyes rimmed red, deep dark circles under both eyes.

We laughed together for a long while—exhausting, but liberating to finish the work.

“Let’s go to the rooftop, hyung. Hanbin’s waiting.”

“Rooftop?”

“The Sky Garden.”

An outdoor garden on TJ Ent.’s top floor—not a cigarette corner, but a beautifully landscaped space.

We rode the elevator up and were greeted by the fresh morning air.

“Brr.”

Good thing I brought my jacket.

Shivering, I stepped onto the dew-damp grass. Two figures waved at the fence.

“Hey! Hey!”

“Welcome, Ujuseon-ssi~!”

It was TNT’s juniors, Ji-hanbin and Seok Ji-hoon.

They nodded at Taehyun and shouted joyfully, “Hyuuung!”

“Long time no see.”

“Great to see you! But Ji-hoon, why are you here? Aren’t you filming a drama?”

“I just came to visit.”

He looked far more exhausted than us, yet his eyes and mouth smiled.

“They were all having a party without me. I had to make time.”

“How’s the shoot?”

“In a couple hours, I’m off to Mungyeong. Filming a period drama, the set’s there.”

Ji-hoon was tired to the max. All of us had hollowed eyes from hectic schedules.

Hanbin offered me a seat and asked,

“How did the recording go?”

“I think it went well.”

They laughed in relief.

“Hey, Taehyun—this song’s gonna be a hit, right?”

“Please.”

“Hyung, I was bragging so much that I got a song from Uju hyung—”

“No you weren’t.”

“Waa, I was!”

Taehyun feigned outrage, and they teased him, making me laugh.

It felt great to be with the crew I’d known since TJ Ent. days.

While we laughed, I blinked at the spread in the Sky Garden.

“Did you hire a catering buffet?”

“Something like it.”

Hanbin said,

“We couldn’t go to a restaurant, so I set up a garden party.”

“Makes sense.”

“There were so many sasaeng and paparazzi outside mixing with the fan clubs—chaos.”

We shuddered at the memory.

“So I smartly prepared this garden party.”

“Ooh.”

“Praise me!”

“Han Taehyun! Seok Ji-hoon! Sun Woo-ju!”

They cheered us by name except mine.

Amid laughter, we examined the dishes: chafing dishes full of food, and even giant crab legs poking out.

“...King crab?”

“Yeah—I got a 3 kg one because I thought of it on the way here.”

Next-level scale.

Ji-hanbin draped an arm over my shoulder.

“Eat up; I arranged all this for us.”

“Right.”

We filled our plates and sat at a table, taking in the fairy-light decorations—like dining at a famous restaurant.

Over an extravagant breakfast, we chatted: schedules, salon changes, overseas tours, and so on.

We started with small talk, then as old friends do, drifted into memories.

“We were so clueless back then.”

“Hahaha!”

“Honestly, those interns....”

Am I getting older? The trainee-era stories were still hilarious.

Perhaps our success had rosied the past.

Seok Ji-hoon sipped his beer and said,

“But I don’t think I’d survive that again.”

“I agree.”

“This industry’s pure luck. We got lucky. Could we recreate this today? Hard to say....”

I nodded in agreement.

Then Ji-hanbin said,

“Oh, but hyung’s exception.”

“Huh?”

“You’d succeed no matter what.”

“What are you talking about?”

They all burst out laughing—joking that I’d have succeeded anywhere.

Maybe they overestimate me from how I looked after them back then.

While carving meat and chatting, Ji-hoon’s phone rang.

“It’s Jang Han-byeol.”

“Answer it!”

We all watched the video call from the one member who couldn’t attend, Jang Han-byeol.

A handsome face popped on screen.

“Yo, hyung!”

“Long time no see.”

“Why does «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» everyone only party when I’m out of the country?”

“You’re in China?”

“Yep—Shanghai.”

He showed the Shanghai skyline outside his hotel window.

Originally a Chinese national, he chose the stage name Jang Han-byeol to symbolize burying his bones in Korea.

As TNT’s only Chinese member and China’s popularity lead, he was often abroad.

“But don’t just hang with these guys. Let’s hang out too when I’m back.”

“Sure. Let’s grab a meal.”

After a long call, we ended with a “Pop!” on our screens.

They waved wistfully; I could glean a few things from the tone.

...Han-byeol probably won’t renew his contract.

“Shall we eat?”

We resumed our meal, but the mood wasn’t as light.

Hanbin stretched and casually said,

“You guys know, this might be our last group activities this year. We’ll still drop albums occasionally, but....”

Because of TNT’s standing, this was expected.

When people think “idol,” TNT is still top of mind for many.

Even if TeenSpirit tops the charts, TNT remains the symbol of K-pop idols to the uninitiated.

In raw scale, we had the largest fandom in Korea.

But it wasn’t a single fandom; it was a coalition of individual fanbases—like Three Kingdoms uniting against Dong Zhuo.

Taehyun fans and Hanbin fans on the same team, that sort of thing.

Seok Ji-hoon said,

“The company’s already crunched the numbers.”

TJ Ent.’s strength and flaw is making money off artists—it only goes where the profit is.

They calculated that members’ solo earnings would exceed the group’s revenue.

“And you guys?”

“Well, the company cares about our opinions, of course. But....”

There seemed to be differences even among us.

“It’s been piling up for Han-byeol too.”

“Why?”

“They’ve been sending him to China solo endlessly for profit. He wants group activities in Korea.”

“The company doesn’t seem too attached. They’ll milk the contract and move on.”

Even if he renewed, he’d face the same grind—no reason to stay.

We all respected Han-byeol’s decision, given what he’d been through.

With a new boy group debuting soon, the atmosphere was restless.

“Aw, come on~”

Taehyun waved off the gloom.

“Don’t kill the mood. Let’s just enjoy our meal.”

“Yeah~!”

We ate with smiles, and Ji-hoon casually said,

“We should’ve debuted together, hyung.”

“Huh?”

“With you here, things would’ve been different. You need a focal point....”

“I’m no focal point. Stop the nonsense and eat.”

“Too serious? I’ve been playing a serious character, it rubbed off on me.”

We all shook our heads, smiling.

I looked at them—everyone got what they wanted, but they didn’t look carefree.

Friends who once shared dreams, now sad because they no longer shared them.

“But we truly did achieve our dream.”

At Taehyun’s sudden remark, we tilted our heads.

“After month-end evals, we’d always sneak snacks here.”

“Right, right.”

“We hid from staff, munching snacks. Never knew why....”

Back then, we’d hidden here with the rookies, snacking and tearing up.

“We said if we succeeded, we’d throw a garden party here.”

“Yeah.”

Laughing, I looked around. I’d forgotten, but it was true.

Our affiliations and timing had changed, but we’d realized one of those dreams.

I suddenly remembered those summer nights—gathered in secret, snacking, staring at the night sky in anxious wonder.

Six years later, under the same sky yet all changed, I said:

“It’s been a long time.”

“A lot of time’s passed.”

We nodded and finished our meal. Now the mood was light and happy.

After eating, we said our goodbyes for our separate schedules.

“Take care, hyung.”

“You too.”

I waved off Ji-hoon and Hanbin.

“Thanks for today, hyung.”

“You’ve been standing all morning. If you have song questions, call me.”

“Will do.”

Taehyun, wryly smiling, said,

“We’ll see each other again soon anyway.”

“Soon?”

“You’ll see.”

He laughed enigmatically. Puzzled, I waved back at my juniors—then they handed me a piece of paper.

“...What’s this?”

“What else? A bill.”

“A bill?”

“You said you’d buy us the meal, hyung.”

“Right.”

The three grinned.

“Consider this with a bit of interest for buying us meat. See ya~”

I stared at the invoice in shock.

Units: ten, hundred, thousand, ten-thousand, hundred-thousand, million, ten-million...

“Hey!”

“Argh! It’s a composer demon!”

“It’s not like you sprinkled gold on the meal—how is it this much...?”

“You’re filthy rich but stingy. Loosen up a bit...!”

“You brats! Stay right there!”

I chased them with a flurry of footsteps.

Whatever else happens, I’ll send these three to hell first, then go home.