In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The producing team staff blinked.

‘You want us to do this?’

A meme about pyramids they’d seen online suddenly came to mind:

When people 1,000 or 2,000 years from now marvel, “Wow, how did they build the pyramids?!”

A 4,000-year-old ancient Egyptian architect looks on in horror, thinking,

“That I’m supposed to build this...?”

They all wore that same expression.

They’d just heard the intro to “Bulkkotnori” that Sun Woo-ju had arranged—and—even as professional composers, they were in awe of its delicate touches. Rumor in Lemon Ent. had it the original source was so fiendishly difficult no one dared touch it. And now here was a painstaking new arrangement of that very track.

“Is there a problem...?” one ventured.

“Hmm...”

“We were all following along just fine until a moment ago...”

Before they could complain, NewBlack’s perceptive leader smiled.

“Shall I explain in detail?”

“Yeah.”

With their recording apps rolling, Uju began.

“First, let me explain the arrangement’s intent.”

“Okay.”

“When we perform ‘Bulkkotnori’ again, it’ll be the first time fans have seen it in two years.”

“That’s right.”

Uju smiled sheepishly.

“But we’ve improved since then.”

“Every time it changes,” the producing team agreed.

Whenever they started a new album, the first thing they checked was each member’s vocal range.

‘Ri-hyuk, please stop expanding your range...’

‘It’s like the song’s climbing stairs.’

Any arrangement based on the last album’s “measurements” would never fit. The progress of the main and lead vocals had been phenomenal.

–Do you know the secret?

Ri-hyuk shared his trick:

–When someone crazy is chasing you, you do whatever it takes. The feeling when I come back from a break and someone’s in my spot...! Gahhh! That guy is killing me!

Even recalling it sent shivers through their eardrums.

As leader—literally “one who leads”—Ri-hyuk drove them onward, and NewBlack’s skills rose each time.

Uju nodded.

“So this version of ‘Bulkkotnori’ has to be different. It must fit our current abilities—a ‘Bulkkotnori 2.0.’ Our stage know-how has grown, and our skill has too.”

He was saying they wanted to put on a better show.

Understanding that, they caught the subtle pitch changes in the intro.

“You want the chorus a bit higher.”

“Yes.”

“And strengthen the bass so the choreography hits harder.”

“That’s it.”

Then he added one more thing.

“We also want to capture the season. We debuted in mid-June.”

“Ah. Then this time it’ll be mid-July when we perform—so it should feel more midsummer?”

“Exactly.”

In short: raise the chorus’s pitch, beef up the choreography-driving bass, and make it feel refreshingly summery.

The producing team staff blinked again.

‘...Did he think we’d figure all that out just from the intro?’

They appreciated the vote of confidence but couldn’t help feeling a bit sad.

PD Na Sang-yun, team lead, spoke for them.

“We get what you want, but the original ‘Bulkkotnori’ source is tough. If you raise one note, another sounds off.”

“Yeah, I struggled with that too.”

Na Sang-yun scratched his chin.

“We’ve got about two weeks left. It might be hard to finish in time.”

Their top client was NewBlack, but Lemon Ent. had other artists too—OST king Yoon Chan-hyuk and the currently hot girl group Scarlet. They didn’t have enough manpower to prep this track’s stems in that window.

“Then...?”

Uju thought and asked,

“Should we bring in more staff?”

“That’s right.”

By ‘more staff’ they meant the people working in the next office over—those newly freed from dubbing duties since the producing team formed.

And the words they’d been waiting for came back.

“How about asking the A&R team’s composers for help?”

“Exactly! That’s it... ahem. Yes.”

Excited, Na Sang-yun nearly applauded—then sat solemnly.

“All right. We’ll prepare the track ASAP.”

“Please.”

The staff waved to the singer, who was humming a tune.

They waved at Sun Woo-ju, teasing him like a mistaken secret Santa gift.

Click.

As Uju closed the office door, the producing team’s eyes blazed.

‘Never die alone.’

Lesson one learned from watching NewBlack and Scarlet at Lemon Ent.

If you’re going to survive, save yourself first—but if you die, you die together.

Exhausted, the producing team soon crossed into A&R Land, where milk and honey flowed.

Click!

“Hello there.”

“Well, well, our producing crew—what brings you here?”

The A&R composers were leisurely enjoying coffee.

The producing team smiled.

“We need to rework Uju’s ‘Bulkkotnori’ into a new version.”

“Oh? And...?”

“Our producer OK’d drafting whoever we need.”

Phew!

Cough, cough!

The A&R team choked in unison, trying to ignore these labor-drafting overlords.

“No way...!”

“We’re really just free from that place...”

“We just want to rest.”

The fleshy A&R composers struggled, while the gaunt producing team dragged them off one by one.

Laughter—“켈켈켈”—and uproar echoed down the hallway.

“...Hmm?”

Executive Producer Director Jo Gyu-hwan descended the stairs gracefully, tilting his head.

‘What’s going on?’

Through the indecipherable clamor floated keywords: “NewBlack,” “Uju,” “please,” “damn.”

‘Something involving Uju.’

Smiling calmly, Director Jo turned and retraced his steps quickly.

After commissioning the ‘Bulkkotnori’ arrangement, we tackled our busy schedule.

We practiced in case the song went viral again, but our main focus was our overseas tour rehearsal.

“Ri-hyuk hyung, how do you say ‘hello’ in Singaporean—Souffle, what was it?”

“Hello, Souffle.”

“Oh, right!”

We rehearsed quick greetings for each country’s Souffle fans: Singapore and Indonesia this week, then Bangkok, Sydney, LA, etc. We’d already hit Japan last February, so that moved to winter.

Between overseas stops, we still had domestic commitments.

“Welcome to NewBlack World~”

“Can’t get away~”

「Wow! I don’t understand the words, but the music’s amazing!」

This was “NewBlack World” interviews for visiting celebrities. It started with Teacher Maeda Shin, then shifted when Paul Roland appeared.

As Hollywood films opened in Korea and their casts visited, they showed up in our content.

Our first guests were the cast of Claire, the American horror flick praised as a metaphor for racism.

「What does ‘Can’t get away’ mean?」

「It means you won’t be able to escape our charm!」

「We’ll see about that~」

We promoted the movie between playful jabs, racking up views.

“Da-eh-a-eh-a-baek!”

And our maknae’s fangirl moment came too:

“Na-na-na-na! I—I—I’m your world’s greatest fan! ...Translate that into English, Ri-hyuk hyung! I’m so flustered, I can’t even speak English!”

「The moment I saw you, I was so stunned I lost my words.」

「Oh my.」

Before Oscar-nominated actress Sarah Whitaker, Jiho babbled.

“I’ve seen every film in your filmography. That one where you go looking for Dad after searching for Mom—that was amazing! Your acting there made me cry rivers of tears! I want to act someday, too.”

「Though I’m a humble aspiring actor, I pride myself on my eye for performance. Your acting was the pinnacle of beauty. When I saw those lake-like eyes, ripples formed in my heart.」

「Oh dear, come here quickly...!」

“Ri-hyuk hyung! Why is she hugging me?!”

“I translated well.”

“I don’t know what that means, but you did great! I’ll brag to the sisters forever!”

Our maknae got ecstatic every time he interviewed Hollywood stars—no wonder, they were familiar faces from jump-scares in wartime or late-night channel surfing.

Those same stars were pros at putting interviewers at ease; we’d relax in five minutes, then the tables turned.

「You can do that?」

“Yes!”

Biju crouched and contorted his neck, giggling,

「Can’t you do this?」

「Eeeek!」

The horror film cast fled in panic—perfect promotion.

In that way, we left a good impression of Korea.

「Win an octave duel with me, and you get a snack. Here’s the first note: ‘Ah↗’」

「...How are we supposed to win that?」

「I guess they don’t intend to feed us.」

「Wait. I’ll hire a dolphin to sing for me off the coast of California.」

「If it were me, I’d attack with dolphins.」

Maybe not the best impression—but crucially, the views kept pouring in.

After the interview, a star snapped a selfie, noticed NewBlackTV, and nearly fainted.

「My god, how many people in Korea watch your MyTube?」

“Um...”

We smiled.

“Almost everyone?”

“So that’s why my manager called you guys national heroes!”

「...That’s a long story.」

As we escorted the returning stars, we explained “Kukmin Idol.” A small spark from a documentary crew had ignited this ripple effect.

While continuing celebrity interviews abroad, we returned to the company practice room to rehearse ‘Bulkkotnori.’

“Huh?”

“What is it, Junghyun?”

“Sounds like something tasty upstairs. People are excited—must be a festival.”

Ri-hyuk shook his head.

“That’s just the A&R teams splitting up.”

“I see.”

We all smiled and made our way to the studio.

“Okay.” 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Clapping his hands as he surveyed his bandmates, Uju said,

“I have some news about my personal schedule.”

“You decided, hyung?”

“Yeah. I’m going to try acting.”

Immediate joy and despair clashed.

“Noooo! You can’t!”

The maknae collapsed to the floor while the rest broke into celebratory dance.

“Nice!”

“We’re saved!”

“Stop dancing! You’re pissing me off!”

“Guys, let’s dance in front of Jiho.”

“Waaaaa~”

We performed choreography around Biju.

Jiho, Jiho,

Hyung’s going to act now.

“Stop it!”

As his brothers laughed at their chosen victim, Jiho pouted and stood.

“But I sort of expected this. You’ve wanted to act for ages.”

“Have I?”

“You always sneak a peek at scripts and mumble lines.”

Maybe that was true—ever since the magic-school CF shoot or when Jiho watched Slip’s cameo shoot. I’d wanted to try something new beyond composing and variety shows.

“What do you guys think?”

They raised their hands eagerly.

“I’m for it. I want to see hyung act.”

“Me too.”

“Me too.”

“Nooooooo!”

Outvoted three to one, I pulled scripts from my bag.

“These are all the scripts I’ve been offered.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Yeah. I brought them all without narrowing them down.”

Beyond composing and variety, I’d received plenty of acting offers—mostly dramas. Unlike variety, this meant audition opportunities: “We think you fit this role—want to audition?”

They skimmed the pages.

The maknae, still flopping on the floor, sat up and flipped through them seriously.

“I haven’t decided where to audition yet. I want your input.”

Even though it’s a solo project, I’m still NewBlack’s Uju.

“Your opinions matter as much as mine—be honest.”

As they studied my face, Jiho selected a few scripts.

“I’ve eliminated any that are way beyond your current skill~”

“Not so bluntly next time.”

The mood instantly broke, and we all laughed before diving back into the scripts.

“Okay, let’s divide roles.”

“Is it just me, or does this not feel solo-career at all?”

“Ri-hyuk, remember when we vowed by the seagulls that NewBlack is one.”

“But it doesn’t feel like solo....”

“Hyung, we’re communist here!”

“No, that’s not it!” I yelled, stopping the maknae from dialing 111.

After the commotion settled, Jiho spoke again.

“First, dramas have many variables. Even if writer, director, and cast are perfect, external issues can blow up. Junghyun hyung will filter out unlucky ones.”

“Okay. I’ll pick them.”

Junghyun laid a hand on each script and removed several. It looked like superstition to an outsider, but anyone who knew him wouldn’t scoff.

“All done. These remaining ones don’t feel ominous.”

“Good job. Ri-hyuk, let’s clear away those that feel lucky.”

We set aside the prosperous-scented scripts and moved on to Ri-hyuk.

“You’re picky, Ri-hyuk. Born to argue everything.”

“That’s wrong—your point is flawed.”

“See?”

While we laughed and Ri-hyuk blushed, Jiho beamed.

“His logic filter will save us!”

Ri-hyuk skimmed and discarded scripts for being stereotypical, discriminatory, or historically inaccurate.

With the “controversy filter,” the pile thinned further.

“Now it’s Biju’s turn. Dramas need mass-appeal—use the muggle eye.”

Surprisingly sound advice from Jiho. Biju flicked through and set aside any that made him pause.

Two hours later, Jiho said, “Now it’s my turn to confirm.”

Only three scripts remained—all cameo-level roles.

They’d hype NewBlack Uju’s cameo: “Our drama guest-stars Uju!” But given my untested acting, that made sense.

“This first one is a historical drama. Hmm.”

“Not historical—fantasy.”

“...Fantasy historical, then. Hmm.”

A trendy period piece: I’d play the secret society leader who manipulated things behind a figurehead, wearing dramatic makeup and earrings.

“The next is a comedy....”

A café run as a front by the protagonist—my role: the barista running the place, making it wildly successful with my looks and skill.

As we murmured “hmm,” the maknae picked up the third.

“But I think this is the one you should do...!”

He hoisted the script like a holy relic. A halo, or just the practice-room lights, shone behind him.

“Ooh...!”

As we gasped, he presented it to me.

“This is....”

Genre: sitcom.

When I read the title, my eyes darted.

“No way....”

“Think [N O V E L I G H T] it’ll be fun?”

“....”

While I blinked, the others did too.

“Really...?”

“Really...?”

Jiho nodded, and we blinked together.

We couldn’t help it because the maknae had fished out...

“?—‘Our Family Is Extraterrestrials’?”

A wildly unconventional weekend sitcom.