In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

News of Minjun reached us a few days later.

We were gathered in the studio having lunch.

“Here, everyone, take one.”

Biju smiled brightly as he passed around the lunch boxes.

The boxes were clearly made of high-quality material. At a glance, the contents looked so amazing they made my mouth water.

Chicken karaage, smoked duck, beef bulgogi, and more.

“Love you, hyung!”

Jiho tore open his wooden chopsticks with an ecstatic expression. I, too, thanked Biju.

“Make sure to tell your dad thank you.”

The lunch had been sent by Biju’s father.

Apparently wanting to express his gratitude in his own way, Biju’s family often sent us expensive lunch boxes like this after the surgery was over.

“How’s Minjun doing?”

“Don’t even ask.”

Biju waved his hand and laughed.

“He’s so excited about starting school next year. He’s already bugging his mom and dad to buy him a backpack. Mom sends me pictures every day, and you can see his expression getting brighter by the day.”

I hadn’t seen the photos, but I could imagine them like a video.

His face must have been sparkling with excitement.

I felt a swell of pride in my chest.

“Oh, right.”

After talking like a proud parent for a while, Biju switched topics.

“I ran into Director Yoon on the first floor earlier. He said to wait after lunch. There are a few things he needs to tell us.”

“A few things? Ah, right. We have that meeting today.”

The meeting where every department gathered to plan the debut album promotion—our so-called strategy review.

New Black’s album only had the cover shoot and music video left.

Today’s meeting was to discuss post-production work and marketing.

“They’re going to write a ton of articles calling Woo-joo a producer-idol now.”

“Ah, come on.”

“Why? There’s never been an idol who debuted with a self-produced song concept. Aren’t you the first, hyung?”

That wasn’t wrong.

We were the first to debut with a self-produced title track.

It was unprecedented in so many ways.

And in a way, it was only natural.

Producing an album costs hundreds of millions of won.

Which company would entrust the fate of such a major project to an idol’s self-composed song?

I’d heard there had been a lot of opposition at first.

Even big agencies had failed more than once by debuting a solo idol with a self-produced concept.

“Still, the staff seem to have a positive vibe.”

Biju smiled.

“I think they were a bit uncertain at first. But ever since the final cut of ‘Fireworks’ was done, their expressions have changed.”

“That’s true. I asked someone in the PR team yesterday. They said the mood in the departments completely shifted after the A&R team listened to the finished track. They said, ‘This is a hit song, so we have to promote it properly.’”

“Wow, they’re really going all out.”

Junghyun, who had been admiring it, added,

“The song is great, and the company people are passionate. I really have a good feeling—”

But Junghyun couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Ah, no, you can’t say that!”

“Hey, Wang Jiho, shut Junghyun up!”

“No way. Why that, me?”

I turned my head to look at Biju.

“What’s all the fuss about now?”

“Junghyun has a jinx... Whenever he says he has a good feeling about something, things always go oddly wrong. The last time he said that was around last year’s mid-year evaluation, right?”

“That’s right.”

Rihyeok shuddered at the mere memory.

“We got completely trounced by Street Boys back then. The rookie development team was furious, and the CEO didn’t even greet us properly for days afterward. Just thinking about it makes me cringe.”

“Hyung, we agreed to stop using the word ‘feeling’ except when talking about snacks.”

“Sorry...”

The rapper, scolded by his juniors, sulked as he ate his lunch.

His face looked like an angry Winnie the Pooh, so he looked like a sulking bear cub clutching a pot of honey. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

I felt sorry for him and patted Junghyun on the shoulder.

“Why are you all picking on Junghyun? Believing in that ridiculous superstition.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve experienced it.”

Rihyeok waved his hand dismissively.

“You just don’t know our history. Once you do, you’ll react the same way. You know how legendary Junghyun’s jinx is?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re about to.”

“Why is he trying to scare me like that? Right, Biju?”

But Biju only gave an awkward laugh.

With him joining in, it really did feel ominous.

“Hyung.”

Junghyun looked sheepish as he spoke.

“I’d love to say it’s not true, but weirdly enough, whenever I say something like that—”

“What’s this?”

Turning my head, I saw Rihyeok frowning at his smartphone.

“What’s wrong?”

“I went online because I thought maybe another incident was about to happen with Junghyun’s jinx joke. But as soon as I logged on, this was front and center. Look.”

“Hmm? What happened?”

Our maknae leaned in and peered at the screen, making the same expression as before.

“Can you show me, too?”

Biju took the phone and furrowed his brows.

Then the three of them glanced at me in unison, sizing up my reaction.

“What’s going on?”

While Junghyun quietly backed away from me, my puzzled gaze flicked between my juniors.

You do it, you do it—they seemed to be thinking.

Finally, Biju took the lead.

“Do you remember Street Boys, hyung?”

“The ones we faced at the year-end evaluation? The group DNS Media was launching?”

“Yes. An article just came out.”

Biju carefully handed me his phone.

The moment I saw the headline, I couldn’t help but frown.

– Rookie group Street Boys, the true ‘producer-idol’ arrives.

...What the heck is this.

– Street Boys reveal debut album tracklist... “Member’s own composition is the title track”

– With a self-produced title track, will Street Boys bring a fresh breeze to K-pop?

– DNS Media says, “Please look forward to self-produced songs”

It started with an article in Young Daily.

Soon after, identical articles with different headlines began to appear.

That meant two things.

DNS Media had launched an aggressive promotion blitz. And Lemon Entertainment had just been bested by a rival.

“It’s so maliciously calculated.”

The head of Operations, reading the article, spat out angrily, but no one stopped him.

Even CEO Park Gyu-ho just listened quietly.

“......”

A heavy silence settled over the conference room.

Lemon and DNS Media were traditional rivals.

As the two largest mid-tier agencies after the Big Four, they constantly snarled and competed.

It had started as a pride battle between two CEOs—one a former TJ Entertainment manager, the other a former engineer—but like any feud, it had grown inseparable.

Whenever Scarlet released an album, La Vie en Rose would follow—when DNS launched Street Boys, we’d debut New Black.

From year-end evaluations onward, their rivalry was everywhere.

But until now, neither side had crossed any red lines.

“This is too underhanded.”

The A&R team leader spoke up.

“In April, when they were about to debut, there was no mention of self-produced songs. Suddenly the title track is self-composed? And the composer is someone who met with us.”

On DNS Media’s official SNS, the title track credits included a name we knew.

Composer Jung Chang-mo, aka JCM.

A third-year composer.

He was co-credited on Street Boys’ debut title “Hunger,” but he had nearly become New Black’s composer.

If our A&R team hadn’t rejected Sun Woo-joo’s song.

“They must have tattled to DNS when they heard we passed because of Woo-joo’s self-produced song. They weren’t supposed to tell them that...”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

CEO Park Gyu-ho spoke up.

Though his face was a bit tense, he wore his usual gentle smile.

He ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) comforted his disheartened staff.

“What’s done is done. We can’t change that. In this business, getting stabbed in the back is an everyday affair. Now more than ever, we need to steel our resolve. If the company stands firm, the artists will survive.”

The staff nodded.

“So let’s drop the negativity and discuss our countermeasures.”

The meeting resumed.

“Frankly, this situation shows how desperate they are.”

Director Yoon Seok-hwan, in charge of New Black, spoke.

DNS Media’s current situation was dire.

They had launched La Vie en Rose to lead the idol generation shift.

But results were disappointing.

Only Jeon Yu-bin shone briefly on variety shows; the group had yielded no real achievements.

So they had poured everything into launching Street Boys.

Rumor had it they’d lobbied massively with K-net for the debut reality show last year.

The problem was Street Boys’ launch had been delayed by DNS Media’s internal issues.

They’d lost heavily on venue and costume costs.

Meanwhile, New Black, which had surged since last year’s year-end evaluation, was enjoying sensational popularity with a duet.

“In a sense, this whole mess is because of Woo-joo.”

When companies first heard that Sun Woo-joo had staged the standout performance at the year-end evaluation, they shrugged.

Thought, “Lemon must have cast him right.”

But then rumors spread he was co-composing with Jang So-won, and by February he’d returned with a song that shook the nation.

At first everyone credited So-won.

But once stories about the composition process and his father, Sun Myeong-ju, surfaced at Music Café, opinions wavered.

Is this kid really talented at composing?

When news broke that Lemon had passed on pro composers and chosen Sun Woo-joo’s self-produced song as the title track, DNS Media must have been stunned.

“How good must that song be to make them choose it for the title?”

Given past performances like the year-end evaluation and “Something,” DNS couldn’t brush it off as an amateur’s self-produced track.

If things continued this way, Street Boys might have their debut overshadowed by a formidable rival.

The best strategy was a preemptive strike.

They’d grab the “producer-idol” image for themselves.

“Either way, we’re in a tight spot.”

The head of PR spoke.

“If we flood the media with press releases now, we’ll just look like followers. We dropped hints about our other tracks back in April, but who remembers that? With DNS pushing these articles, there’s nothing we can do.”

Silence fell over the room again.

Worried faces twisted in thought.

Then the producer, who’d been silent until now, spoke.

“We don’t have to see this as entirely negative.”

Director Jo Gyu-hwan began.

“True, we haven’t monopolized the image because of DNS’s marketing. But on the other hand, this could be a big opportunity.”

“Opportunity?”

“We can turn their promotion blitz against them.”

He continued.

“DNS is betting everything on the Street Boys project. They’d do our promotion before we even start. The more we respond, the more aggressively they’ll push back. We can use that to frame a rivalry between our kids and Street Boys.”

If Lemon and DNS started a marketing war around their respective groups, the press would pick up on it.

The debut battle of rookie boy groups.

Just the kind of buzz the sleepy K-pop scene needed.

“Once a rivalry is established, it works in our favor. The more DNS promotes, the more New Black gets mentioned for free marketing. As the battle escalates, public interest will grow.”

“True. People might check out the songs out of curiosity.”

CEO Park Gyu-ho frowned in thought.

“But this is risky. If we win, it’s huge. If we lose, it’s a disaster.”

The winner would reap all the rewards, but the loser would suffer a major blow.

It could end up being a losing battle.

Tapping the table in thought, the CEO turned to the A&R team leader.

“Team Leader Park.”

“Yes, CEO.”

“That song that Woo-joo made—wasn’t the mixing just finished recently? Can we hear it again?”

One major lesson CEO Park Gyu-ho had learned raising artists was that success ultimately comes down to the song.

No matter how much promotion or which shows you appear on.

If the song is good, it will eventually succeed.

Luck and opportunity come later.

He needed conviction.

Before making a big decision, he had to be certain.

The A&R team leader stood up and played the final version of “Fireworks” through the speakers once more.

When the song finally ended,

CEO Park Gyu-ho felt confident enough to make his decision.

Several hours later than scheduled.

We, who had been adjusting the choreography for “Fireworks” in the practice room, were greeted by an exhausted Yoon Seok-hwan.

He looked like the math demon had been nuked in a microwave.

He downed a bottle of water from the corner table, blinked as if focusing, and then motioned for us to gather.

“I have some announcements.”

We all sat down.

“The CEO just made a decision after the meeting. From now on, the entire debut budget for New Black will be doubled.”

We stared at him with our mouths agape.

Me too, gasping like a goldfish.

Wait a minute.

We already had plenty, and now it’s doubled?

“Everything’s changing. We’ll hire top-class crews for your jacket shoot and music video. The showcase budget will skyrocket. Company artists will support you on SNS, of course.”

Every item decided at the meeting was astonishing.

“The PR team will add more video staff and shoot your daily lives in reality-show style.”

Not long ago, when someone suggested filming our daily lives, Yoon Seok-hwan had refused, saying there wasn’t enough bandwidth.

The company was busy with movie promotion, and there was only one video editor.

But today’s events must have changed everything.

“In short, if it helps launch you, the company will do whatever it takes. The CEO and executives are fully committed. This is a huge opportunity for all of us, especially for you.”

Our manager urged us.

“We have to make the most of this. This is how we survive.”

And thus began the pre-debut battle between us and Street Boys.